One vegetable garden is simply not enough for me anymore. I realize I sound slightly silly by saying that, but it's true. I love my potager-style veggie patch, but lately Will and I have had a yearning for an old-fashioned, row-after-row, full-blown Victory Garden-style garden.
So we started one. If only it was as easily done as it was said, because it turned out to be quite a chore to get this thing completed. Thankfully, I've learned to be suspicious when things are too easy around here, so I actually appreciate having to struggle a bit to accomplish a goal.
I bet you really think I sound silly now. Well I know what I'll do--I'll just jump right into the photos and distract you...
So we started one. If only it was as easily done as it was said, because it turned out to be quite a chore to get this thing completed. Thankfully, I've learned to be suspicious when things are too easy around here, so I actually appreciate having to struggle a bit to accomplish a goal.
I bet you really think I sound silly now. Well I know what I'll do--I'll just jump right into the photos and distract you...
Let's start here. This is my old garden tiller.
It's seen better days. We have to talk it into firing up every time we want to use it, and after it finally takes off it will run for about 3 minutes before coughing itself to a halt. But after it thinks about things for several more minutes, it'll start back up and do a little work.
Have you ever known anybody like that?
Well the work I wanted it to do was to break up an area of soil that (to my knowledge) had never been broken before. This little fact turned out to be key, and really threw a wrench in my plans--the grass roots were so thick, it was almost impossible to break through them!
Now had I thought ahead back in the fall, I could have smothered the area with old carpet or cardboard boxes and killed the grass while simutaneously creating a perfect haven for earthworms to fertilize the soil over the winter. But I've never been good at thinking ahead.
So attacking the area with the roto-tiller was my only choice.
It's seen better days. We have to talk it into firing up every time we want to use it, and after it finally takes off it will run for about 3 minutes before coughing itself to a halt. But after it thinks about things for several more minutes, it'll start back up and do a little work.
Have you ever known anybody like that?
Well the work I wanted it to do was to break up an area of soil that (to my knowledge) had never been broken before. This little fact turned out to be key, and really threw a wrench in my plans--the grass roots were so thick, it was almost impossible to break through them!
Now had I thought ahead back in the fall, I could have smothered the area with old carpet or cardboard boxes and killed the grass while simutaneously creating a perfect haven for earthworms to fertilize the soil over the winter. But I've never been good at thinking ahead.
So attacking the area with the roto-tiller was my only choice.
But all that did was scratch the surface and reveal my least favorite thing. Have I ever mentioned how rich in rocks we are? And how they don't belong in my garden?
Yet somehow they always seem to end up there. I call them my winter crop because every spring when I go out to check what's made it through the cold weather, I always discover more rocks. I think freezing temperatures make them multiply. One day they'll prove that, I'm just ahead of my time.
And by the time I finally gave up trying to break the soil, I was exhausted.
Yet somehow they always seem to end up there. I call them my winter crop because every spring when I go out to check what's made it through the cold weather, I always discover more rocks. I think freezing temperatures make them multiply. One day they'll prove that, I'm just ahead of my time.
And by the time I finally gave up trying to break the soil, I was exhausted.
So it was time for Plan B. Which I didn't initially have, but ended up revealing itself after church the next Sunday. I was telling our friend Tom my dilemma and how the only way I thought the soil would ever break up was if I used a team of oxen to pull a plow through it.
To which he responded, "Plow? I've got an old 1930's plow that I hook onto my skid loader, and once those blades hit the dirt, it doesn't take "No" for an answer."
And then he followed that with, "Would you like me to bring it over?"
I've never heard more beautiful words...
To which he responded, "Plow? I've got an old 1930's plow that I hook onto my skid loader, and once those blades hit the dirt, it doesn't take "No" for an answer."
And then he followed that with, "Would you like me to bring it over?"
I've never heard more beautiful words...
And true to his word, Tom and his skid loader and his plow arrived the very next day.
Tom wasn't exaggerating about the plow either. This eighty year old tool dug into the job just like it must have back its younger years. Sometimes I wonder why they don't make things like they used to.
Because within twenty minutes my soil was broken. It was the best twenty minutes of my life...but unlike Tom, I am prone to emotionally-fueled exaggeration.
After that, we quickly got to work. I coaxed the tiller into running through the soil to break up the clods of dirt, and then Will and I raked the soil into rows. Since the area is on a slope, (what isn't around here?) we mounded the soil to prevent runoff from the spring rains.
We then added a few amendments--like cow manure and composted wood chips--and then began to plant all our troubles away...
In rows and rows of things like Dragon Tongue Beans, Blue Basil, Golden Fingerling Potatoes, Giant Zinnias & Marigolds, Burgundy Okra, and Red Cabbage. And then some.
And I've never seen a more proud Farmer Boy than this one as he walked the newly planted rows, surveying his handiwork and dreaming of his harvest.
And so far things are coming up nicely. The cabbages are lush and full, the basil is bushy and bold, and all the rest are healthy and happy too. In fact, we had to put up a temporary fence to hold off all the rabbits who tried to gorge themselves on our beautiful "buffet". (Wascally wabbits! Arrgh!!)
Eventually we'll expand the area (this is only a 1/3 of what we planned!) and get a real fence up around it all, but everything in its season. Pretty soon it'll be harvest season, and we'll be so busy we won't know what to do. But then again, on this homestead, when are we not?!
It's a wonderful world.
Eventually we'll expand the area (this is only a 1/3 of what we planned!) and get a real fence up around it all, but everything in its season. Pretty soon it'll be harvest season, and we'll be so busy we won't know what to do. But then again, on this homestead, when are we not?!
It's a wonderful world.
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