I’ve been pretty excited about my garlic. This is the second year I’ve grown garlic and the first year was such a thumping success that it filled my sails for a long time. I’m not much of a farmer. Even the things I do grow successfully don’t necessarily get harvested. I just watched a splendid two rows of rambunctious lettuce grow and thrive and then bolt, and I cheered it on and subtracted maybe one salad from it.

But sometimes things work. The first broccoli year was a revelation. Broccoli the size of soccer balls busted out of those plants in a matter of days. This, I thought, makes up for that sorry tomato situation. My tomatoes often have a soggy bottom.

Anyway the garlic lasted me most of the winter that first year. The heads were enormous. I’d started with two large expensive fancy heads to divide and they came through. From now on, they’re free.

I do know how to grow things. That is because I have a browser and know how to type. So I looked up when to harvest garlic. And that would be about three weeks after you pick the scapes (I didn’t pick the scapes) and if you don’t pick the scapes (I didn’t) you wait until they are pointing straight up. They start out gracefully curved under like a shepherd’s crook. Problem was, I was going to be gone for a while, and I didn’t want to miss my garlic window. I looked every day, and the scapes were unfurling and starting to point up. Most of them. Just in time! About 3/4 of them were pointing straight up and the remainder were at least a little aroused.

I could have asked a neighbor to harvest the rest of the garlic for me in a few days, but one hesitates. I already have them promising to water stuff, and I’m kind of a pain in the ass about it. Not “Could you make sure my pots and flower boxes get water?” but “The hose works best on the soaker setting but it’s really important to not drag the hose through the salamander topiary in the front yard and maybe you should just fill up the watering can and make lots of trips. Also, I use those hoses that act like a scrotum and you need to make sure you’ve drained the water out of them so they don’t blow up.” Nobody needs all that noise for a simple favor.

On the other hand, I don’t see anyone objecting to picking my raspberries and blueberries. They get to keep them, of course. Still, it’s different to explain the steps (according to the internet) about the garlic harvest. That starts to feel like homework.

So I pulled the rest of the garlic. My goodness. I have 27 heads of garlic!

According to the internets, you fumble around in the loose soil to check the progress. You make sure they have nice shoulders. I like that they call the top end of the garlic “shoulders.” It’s evocative. But the metaphor breaks down fast. They’re “shoulders” because they come just under the “neck” but what is below that? The head. And below that? The hair. Well, roots. THIS PLANT IS RIGHT-SIDE UP AND UPSIDE-DOWN AT THE SAME TIME.

Now I’m confused about exactly what to call the pertinent parts of the garlic, but it all became clear in the next step. You pull up your garlic. You dust the dirt off of it. And then you “pull the lowest green leaf” down all the way off like panty hose to reveal a shiny, clean bulb. Pulling the lowest green leaf down is a euphemism. I’m pantsing them.

That’s no head. That’s a shiny white butt! That’s a fine fat ass with multiple cleavages, and now even the hair underneath makes sense.

But hey! Some of my garlic might be a little premature, but it’s another success! Which is more than I can say about the broccoli, planted in the same bed. For the last two years the broccoli has been scandalous. It’s buggy and small and yellow, and those are the good plants. The others are too dismal to even bother flowering.

I’m only glad that the garlic has its head in the sand so it doesn’t get discouraged by the broccoli. True, new research indicates plants chat with each other constantly, send out flares, go all Paul Revere on each other, but I suspect the garlic is willfully ignoring the whole scene. “I’m going to get a fat head,” my garlic says to my broccoli. “You do you.”