The BF and I spent Sunday doing spring clean-up at his place. It was only fair, since he helped me spruce up my garden, move the grill, turn the compost, etc. So I put on my trusty overalls, my '50s rhinestone shades, and a pair of work gloves to commence cleanup. See photo at left of me on the 4-wheeler. (I couldn't get the tiara to stay on.)
Real farm clean up is completely different than here at the Fraudulent Farmstead. Here I bag trash, chop up brush for my mini-brush pile, toss weeds into the compost heap, and mow the yard in about 6 minutes flat. There, we began by picking up deadfall from the trees, throwing them into a trailer hooked to the 4-wheeler. We disassembled a rotting firewood pile, also chucking that stuff into the trailer. Then we drove the 4-wheeler to a spot about 2 miles away, where we dumped all that debris into a gully. The theory is that it will all rot down, and in the process, it helps control erosion in the wash.
The BF's mom got out the most amazing riding lawn mower I've ever seen to cut the nearly 4-acre lawn. We dug weeds and unproductive brambles out of the bed we're going to plant with raspberries, in part so that the BF could get to some old pipes sticking out of the pole barn. They ran to the hog waterer (hog waterer!) when the pole barn was a hog house. Then the BF used a torch to cut the pipes off. We also used the 4-wheeler to pull down an old fence and haul that wood to the gully.
Let's review, shall we? 4-wheelers, riding lawn mowers, and acetylene torches. Farm clean up is WAY cooler than here in the city.
After a considerable amount of labor, I crashed, leaving the BF to his last job: screwing the tin roof back down to the pole barn in a couple of spots. Fortunately, he didn't fall during this process, as I was not conscious enough to dial 911 had he rolled off the roof.
Throughly caked in dirt and pollen, we headed inside for showers. (The BF informs me that according to farmer tradition, I should not wash my overalls until they can practically walk by themselves.) We rode the 4-wheeler over to the BF's mom and step-dad's place for steaks on the grill. It was a hugely productive and shockingly fun day. The BF says that if I keep up this way, I might have to drop "fraudulent" from my screen name.
Above, I bond with the BF's cattle dog, Dutch.
I spent part of the morning double digging the parking strip. For those of you unfamiliar with double digging, a short primer:
- Strip all the sod off the bed, if there's any there.
- Remove all plants from the bed (if there are any).
- Dig a trench to the depth of one spade. Move all that soil onto a tarp.
- Use a garden fork to loosen the remaining soil in the trench to the depth of a second spade.
- Pour mulch, compost, dead weeds, roadkill, or whatever organic material you have lying about into the trench.
- Move over.
- Now dig a second trench right next to the first, again to one spade depth. Dump the soil from the second trench into the first trench.
- Repeat steps 4 through 7 until you have completed double digging the whole bed.
- Dump the soil on the tarp into the last trench.
- Smooth out soil with a rake, breaking up any clumps. Replant.
- Crawl to the bathroom, take four Advil and a hot bath, ideally followed by a shot of whiskey.
- Sleep like the dead.
Double digging is a method for loosening up compacted soil and enriching it with organic material. There's no question that it does a pretty good job of both of those things. But it took three hours to do about two-thirds of the 8' x 16' parking strip. I almost never double dig, and now I remember why.
Besides the fact that double digging is slow and exhausting, it's hard not to mix up the top soil and subsoil. The top soil is the dark brown stuff that actually supports plant life (and worms and microbes and other things that make plant life possible). The subsoil is the extremely compacted yellow stuff you could use to throw pots. Ideally, you want to loosen the subsoil without actually mixing it with the top soil. In practice, that's nearly impossible, at least when digging a new bed in an Indiana garden.
Also, I'm pretty sure I killed a lot of worms. The more worms in my soil the better, as far as I'm concerned. But you move all that soil around with sharp implements like spades and hoes and whatnot, you're going to chop some worms. The robins are out there having a buffet.
I read about a woman who hired some teenagers to strip the sod off her bed, then bury it upside down 8" below the soil line. This woman was a genius who 1. got someone else to do the labor and 2. came up with free organic materials to enrich her soil. I was unable to follow her example, largely because my trenches weren't that deep. My sod is like the grass of the undead, and I was convinced no matter how deep I buried it, it would rise again, probably while moaning and lurching across the bed toward newly planted perennials. So for now, all those little squares of sod sit in a pile in the backyard, probably planning their assault on the rose bed.
In short, I'm convinced some sadistic head gardener invented double digging to keep his underlings busy and out of trouble. As I have no underlings, I will not be double digging the remaining one-third of the bed. Instead, I'll loosen up the soil with a garden fork. When I plant, I'll dig extra-wide holes and amend them with lots of compost. Then I'll top-dress the bed with compost and let rain and the worms work it down into the soil.
Leave the digging to the worms. It's their job.
As an organic gardener, I find that lawn care rates way down on my list of fun garden tasks. Sure, lawns make a great spot for playing, and they serves as a restful counterpoint to flower-filled beds. They're worth having, in the right place. But lawns as practiced by most Americans--perfect green turf, untouched by flowers or weeds--are completely unnatural. Mama Nature does not like monoculture. She's all for a a fine mix of species, each fulfilling their part in the ecosystem.
And dandelions (along with other weeds) are nature's way of preparing the soil for more substantial plant life. Ever wonder why dandelions have those long taproots from hell? It's so they can pull nutrients up from deep in the soil. Weeds thrive in spots with bare, compacted, or depleted soil because they're adapted to survive there. They pull up the nutrients, die off, and return the nutrients to the top layer of the soil. Over time, that prepares the soil to support other plant life--grasses, tress, flowers, or what have you.
So what's this got to do with my lawn, you ask? Well, my lawn's a bit patchy, which means that the dandelions loooove it. I've never been one for the perfect lawn; I'd far rather spend my time weeding flower beds, pruning, and speaking gently to my tomato plants.
But I do want my front yard to be presentable (although my standards for a presentable lawn are considerably lower than my neighbors'). My lawn is full of clover (good for returning nitrogen to the soil, stays green all the time, doesn't get very tall), a couple of kinds of grass (which gives a really weird green-and-brown marbling effect in the winter, when the warm-season grasses die off), and violets, which I like for their flowers. Even a few dandelions are ok. The problem with the dandelions is that they grow so much faster and taller than everything around them, making it even more obvious when I've shirked mowing.
And as an organic gardener, I'm not going to pour chemicals on my lawn to create a perfect green turf I'd be afraid to let the neighbor kid play on. Which means that my dandelion control of choice is hand-weeding. The front yard's only about 40' x 30', so hand weeding is possible, although tedious. I spent about two hours weeding with my trusty hori-hori knife this week, and I'd say I got about 90% of them. I dug them out, trying to get as much of the taproot as possible. I followed up by applying corn gluten, a natural corn byproduct that inhibits germination. The corn gluten will prevent the seeds that will inevitably float into my yard from taking root.
In the process, I gave myself a huge fat blister on my right palm. I look like I'm working on a stigmata.
Other current front-yard products include applying milky spore to target those damn Japanese beetles that keep detroying my roses. Normally I have a live-and-let live philosophy when it comes to pests. I figure if enough of them show up, a predator will also arrive for an all-you-can-eat buffet. But the Japanese beetles don't have any natural enemies here, and hand-picking them off my plants isn't cutting it. Milky spore is a natural bacteria that targets the grubs. Over a couple of years, it kills of the grubs in the soil, reducing the beetle population and improving the lawn whose roots the grubs have been feasting on.
And finally, I'm digging up one of the hell strips to prepare it for planting. If I had thought ahead, I would have smothered the grass there with newspaper and mulch last fall, which would kill the grass and ease up the digging in spring. I did not think ahead, however, so I'm stuck stripping the sod by hand, a torturous process that always takes three times as long as I think it will. I only managed to strip about one third of my 16' x 8' strip in a couple of hours. On the upside, by taking it slower, I was actually able to walk the next day.
Updates as they occur.
I spent the morning with Terry and Amy from Spotts Lawn and Garden and fellow volunteer Jenny spreading compost on a small garden here in Irvington. The Shelly Shane Memorial Garden is a pocket garden located next to our wonderful local restaurant The Legend. It's in front of the equally wonderful Shops at Snips, home to Edibles Natural Food Market. I love my neighborhood.
Anyway, we spent the morning spreading ten yards of compost around the plantings established last year. Spotts Lawn and Garden is a small organic gardening outfit located here in Irvington. Amy, Jenny, and I were in the same Master Gardening class, so it was lovely to catch up with them. We spent several hours spreading compost, comparing favorite plants, and discussing the state of gardening in general. The time I spent goes toward my Master Gardener certification, AND they fed me lunch at Jockamo Pizza, where I introduced Amy to the joys of Jockamo's cracktastic Parmesan dip. Free food, civic engagement, and an entire morning in the dirt. It was fabulous.
Equally fabulous was the Japanese hoe Terry loaned me. I've heard of Japanese triangle weeders, but this was the first time I've used one. I will be ordering mine immediately. Super sharp, with a slightly offset triangle-shaped blade, it whacks through weeds like you wouldn't believe. With one of these to take up shallow-rooted weeds and my incredible hori-hori knife (courtesy of the BF) for the deep-rooted ones, weeds everywhere will tremble at my approach. That's right, you little opportunists--your days are numbered!
Spring has officially sprung here at the fraudulent farmstead, even though the weathermen say we're going to have snow this weekend. I say they told us we were going to have blizzards that never happened on three separate occasions, so I'm choosing to believe they don't know what they're talking about.
No doubt about it, spring is here. The grass is greeening up nicely, and the first tulip of the season has arrived. I planted loads of cheap bulbs from Lowes last year. Every fall I think I don't need to plant so many, but every spring I'm glad I did. Especially since the tulips peter out after a year or two.
But not the daffodils! These clumps get larger every year. Plus, they're toxic, so the squirrels don't eat them. The squirrel mafia in my neighborhood love tulip and crocus bulbs almost as much as they love cat food.
Another sign of spring: Lou's cat house has moved to the back garden. When the weather warms up, the cat house starts to smell, shall we say, a little ripe. Don't feel too bad for Lou, though. The BF helped me move all the outside furniture out of the garage, so Lou can now lounge on the cushioned wicker furniture on the front porch.
Last Sunday was absolutely gorgeous. The BF and I worked for several hours. When he asked me where the grill was supposed to go, I said, " Well, it usually goes right where that composter is." In order to place the grill, we had to find a new home for the Biostack.
We broke down my old heap, including the pallets, which are now in the garage waiting for inspiration to strike. The heap was half-full, which I was thrilled about. The BF figured I had more compost than I knew what to do with, which any gardener will tell you is impossible.
We spread that compost all over the back garden beds, then raked the huge leaf mould pile out to cover the shade bed. And then we moved the Biostack to where the old heap had been, a task that involved loading the garden cart and two trash cans full of compost-in-progress, disassembling the bin, reassembling the bin in the new spot, and forking all the compost-in-progress back in.
Then the BF did something brilliant with some old brick that ensured the grill did not sink directly into the soil when we moved it into its spot. We topped off the day with kebabs on the grill (the BF does a mean marinade) and dining amid the fruits (and flowers) of our labors. It was a damn near perfect day. Above, Miss Kitty checks the placement of the grill.
It was supposed to storm this afternoon, but instead we had a beautiful, breezy day with passing clouds. After a morning spent beating my income tax forms into submission, I rewarded myself with an hour in the garden. I saw the first bee of the season. He was sleeping in the hyacinth at left.
I transplanted the strawberry plants out of one of the raised beds into a border. I'm going to try my hand at some potatoes in that bed. I bought seed potatoes and onion sets at the Rural King in Monticello, which might just edge out Lowes as my new favorite store. I also got a fantastic pair of Carhartt overalls, which I love with an unreasoning passion. And yes, they are the boys' version.
In other news from the potager, the tomato seedlings have their first set of leaves, although not their true leaves yet. The peppers and eggplant are slower to break through, but I'm checking every day.
The hostas in hosta alley are just starting to crown. I'll be moving some of them to the shade border to make room for my enormous potting bench. You can see at left the watering cans, trash cans, and hoses that already reside there, as well as Miss Kitty checking things out.
I finally planted the seeds for my warm weather veggies. If all goes well, I should have three kinds of heirloom tomatoes, three types of bell peppers, and mini-eggplant. I present my photo essay on starting seeds:
I used the Gardener's Supply Company's APS (which I finally figured out stands for Advanced Propagating System). To the far right is the water tray. You turn the pegboard upside down over the tray, then fill the water reservoir. That flat grey thing is the water mat. You soak the mat, then lay it over the upside-down peg tray. By sticking part of the mat into the water, you create a wicking system that keeps the mat wet. The plant cells (at far left) have holes in the bottom. They sit on the mat, thereby soaking up water.
Ingenious, no?
The APS comes with a seed starting mix, that, like most, is largely peat moss. The directions say to wet the peat moss until its slightly moist. Have you ever tried to wet down peat moss? It absorbs a huge amount of water, and it's difficult to get it consistently wet.
Also, peat moss is extremely fine and prone to flying about until it's dampened. Don't use your sprayer attachment on the faucet unless you want to be cleaning peat moss off every surface in the kitchen. Not that I've done that.
So here's the assembled system; the big bowl of seed starting mix; my pretty, pretty seed packets; tags; and the doohickey that you stick in the water reservoir to tell you how high the water level is. It has an actual name, but I can't remember it.
I used an old measuring cup to put the mix into the bottomless seed tray cells. Peat moss is light, so I had to keep packing it down, making an even bigger mess of the kitchen counters in the meantime. Once each cell was full, it was time for the actual planting.
I put one or two seeds in each cell, covered them with about 1/4" of seed starting mix, and squished it all down. Squishing is important, because you need good contact between the seed and the soil for germination.
Next comes labeling. All seedlings look the same, so you have to mark what you've planted. My labels are on little wooden tags that look like popsicle sticks. I had some trouble fitting the plastic cover on the tray until I figured out the labels needed to sit at an angle to accommodate the cover.
Here you see the completed tray with watering doohickey sticking out. You water through that little notch there.
Seeds need heat to germinate, but the APS recommends that you not use a heat mat with it. I'm still stumped by this one. I know some people use warm spots like the top of the fridge, but the top of my fridge is 1. not really warm, and 2. filled with stuff like margarita mix and fruit juice (when you have a small house, you have to make the most of your storage). So for now, they're sitting under the lights until I figure out something else.
By the way, here's my indoor potting shed. It used to be a breakfast nook, but it's really too small for a table and chairs. The bookcase I use as a seed starting station, shop light, and rocking chair fit nicely, though. You can't see from the picture the haze of cat hair on the chair; the rocker is one of Miss Kitty's favorite lounging spots. Note the corner cabinets filled with gardening books (on the right). The left cabinet holds my cookbooks, tea pots, and tea cups. Isn't it cozy?
Updates as they occur!
I was starting to think I'd never see it. The bulbs in my garden are telling me that we're about three weeks behind. Normally I'd have had at least a few daffodils in mid-March. Anyway, for all my friends who scored "daffodil" on the flower quiz, here you go. We snapdragons will have to wait until summer.
In other news, I spent last Friday planting the peas, lettuce, radish, and carrots in the potager. One of the nice things about raised beds is that the soil warms up more quickly than in the ground. I was able to plant with minimum mess (as those who know me well can testify, I can't do anything without making a mess). Big Lou sat by my side and supervised, occasionally trying to sashay into the raised bed to get a closer look.
Next up, plant those tomato seeds I've been talking about for several weeks.
