Most folks come back from the cabin with fish, sunburns, or a cooler full of beer. Me? I came back with… bragging rights to my aunt’s onion harvest.
That’s right—I can’t even claim credit. These beauties weren’t mine. I just stood there, took pictures, and pretended I was part of the operation. Classic cabin freeloading.
The Onion Overlord (a.k.a. My Aunt)
My aunt runs the garden like it’s a top-secret military operation. Every onion got planted with precision, watered with patience, and probably threatened once or twice for motivation. And it worked—because these onions grew up big, bold, and ready for the spotlight.
The Great Onion Drying Ceremony
When harvest day arrived, the onions weren’t just pulled—they were paraded. Lined up on a board across the cabin deck, their green tops dangled dramatically, as if they were auditioning for a vegetable fashion show.
Honestly, it looked less like gardening and more like performance art.
Cabin Vibes, Onion Style
The sea breeze blew through the onion tops like a choir of leafy wind chimes. Sitting in a deck chair, I realized: this wasn’t just food. This was agriculture, culture, and onion couture all rolled into one.
The Moral of the Story
Do I deserve credit? Absolutely not.
Am I still telling everyone I “helped” with the onion harvest? You bet.
Because at the end of the day, these are my aunt’s onions—but I’ve adopted them as part of my cabin legacy.
Next year, I’m calling dibs on the garlic.