I’m all in favor of raising a glass of my favorite beverage at the end of the day — but this farm gives new meaning to raising a glass.

Over the course of the winter, as the ground has frozen and thawed, frozen and thawed, the heaving has raised a glass — or pieces of glass.  And I assure you, “all that glitters is not gold.”  As I work in the garden, or crisscross the lawn, something will glitter and catch my eye; and it hasn’t been gold yet.  No, it’s been shards of glass, pieces of pottery and even daggers of a broken mirror.  It’s a never ending battle of me against the things that will cut my feet if I ever dare to walk barefoot around this farm.

My one day yield – slightly more than 1/2 a pound.  I’ll raise a glass to that.