For pure, childlike, visceral pleasure, no garden task beats digging potatoes.
You stick a fork in loamy soil and tight-skinned, waxy nuggets of red and tan and gold and maybe even blue pop out and spill onto the surface. They dangle like baubles when lifted by the plants and roll onto the soft dirt.
I wish I had a small bed of potatoes to dig every day.
Garlic is very fun, too. Part of the joy is not knowing what you’re going to find. Will there be lots of potatoes? Will the garlic be extra plump? When the answer to those questions is yes! yes!, it’s better than a luxury vacation.
I really think I would prefer a hill full of big, bodacious potatoes over a week in an exotic resort. No packing, no traveling, and I get to sleep in my own bed. And potatoes.