Basking in the sun on the deck with the dogs
sipping strong coffee and scheming on planting season
I wrote this in February, but neglected to share. I just read it again and it reminded me how excited I was before gardening season took over my attention, so I thought I would share it with you in case it helps your continue to dream about your garden’s possibilities.
I am still learning this land, every day. The largest established plot is in a questionable but beautiful spot with a heart-melting view of the river. The volunteer mulberries along the south fence are tenacious, and even in this 50 degree weather the beds are blanketed with snow.
It’s extra sandy this close to the river, and last year we ran drip hoses endlessly out here and still the seedlings shriveled in the drought. I forgot to pull a few hoses out in the fall and I make the mistake of yanking one, breaking the brittle old rubber. This year I’ll tuck a rain barrel uphill at the barn to feed the irrigation, but I imagine we’ll still have to run the pump if this trend continues.
My father and I find hope in the snowmelt as we sweep through the field with machetes and clippers, hacking the skeletons of last year’s garden to the ground. I keep thes2e ghosts over winter for the birds and to keep the earth in place.
We leave roots and trample brittle stems right where they are; easier than hauling to the compost and cheaper than buying the great quantities of mulch it takes to hold water on this sandy riverside. Sunflower, corn and okra are too tough to break down without chopping them up, so we pile the stiff stalks on the heap of duck litter between the field and the barn. Once the steaming mound gets hot enough to kill pathogens, it will be a real treat for the leafy greens. Duck litter really is magic.
In the little orchard, the quackers spend summer days gobbling up fallen fruit, wriggling their butts and loudly proclaiming their purple-faced joy like little winos. They poop every 15 minutes so the trees get more than enough nitrogen, and the fresh manure won’t contaminate fruit way up in the branches. If anything, we’ll feed those trees baked and smashed up bones and banana-rich compost from the worm farm to balance out the nutrients. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Now the ducks mill around us as we work, nibbling chickweed from the bare spots and snacking on pesky bugs that overwintered in the mulch. I thank them for the fertilizer, weeding, and pest control.
We make a separate pile of anything that looks sick and heap it in the fire pit, and I grin with anticipation of a crackling bonfire on a chilly spring night. Maybe I’ll plant a moon garden around it, night-blooming flowers to sweeten the air and anything pale that reflects the moonlight. Maybe throw in some of those weird little spaceship-looking white pattypans just for kicks. Moonflowers seem like an obvious choice but I’m afraid they would take over and make the animals sick.
There’s a huge bag of composted cow manure near the chicken coop, so rather than haul it all bit by bit to the other plots, I think I’ll spread it around and plant some tasty snacks for the girls. Maybe if they have enough treats it will keep them out of the flower beds. Marigolds for bright yellow yolks (I have heard.) Nasturtiums, garlic and herbs to keep them healthy and cut down on the bugs that pester them in summertime. Lettuces, cabbage, and the frilliest of kale to play with before devouring. Sunflowers, for seeds and beauty. I’ll have to fence it off until the seedlings grow big enough to survive their ravages.
Speaking of seedlings, today is the day I start my first plants. Peppers, celery, rosemary and thyme, chunks of sweet potato in water for slips, a handful of flowers. It’s on the early side, but sandy soil has its advantages, warming quickly in the sun. March can’t come soon enough!