I was given a gloriously colorful tied-died shirt for Christmas, which combined with my faded denim overalls and my overdue-for-a-haircut shaggy hair, may possibly be tilting me into the visual parameters that signal "there goes a hippie!" (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)
Evidence so far includes the fact that whilst I was at my
local discount grocery today, the produce manager who stopped to help me find the price on a ten-pound bag of potatoes suddenly looked down at the box of old garlic in his hands and said "Do you have any use for sprouting garlic?"
Of
course I said "Sure, I'll plant as much as you've got" so he had me hold open a sack into which he sorted out the fourteen or so oldest heads from his small bin. "Tell them at the register Tom said you could just have this" he said, before going on his way with my thanks.
It's really a month or two past optimum garlic-planting time, here, but the weather continues mostly above freezing, so why not?