Archives for category: sheet mulch

Awesome. Blue Seal dropped six bales off this afternoon. (Yeah, I know I should cultivate a local relationship, but then the driver was local, and we talked about gardening.)

Straw, seedless, and not hay, with seeds: We want to suppress weeds, not encourage them!

The straw is oat straw, unlike last year’s wheat straw (which Blue Seal says is hard to get right now). I don’t know if that will make a difference or not; the driver said no. So now all I have to do is promote some newspaper by May Day, and I’ll have the whole garden sheet mulched before I plant a thing.

And as I was looking for the photo, I had a horrible mental image: The bales covered with snow. Let’s hope this post exorcises that possibility!

After the iris had failed to appear, I thought about “cleaning up the bed” by removing the leaf mulch, but that sounded like work, so I didn’t do it. And rightly: They did appear. Moreover, why disturb the bed? Those leaves are happily rotting away. Moral: Add layers, and do not subtract them.

I didn’t split the bulbs last fall, because I didn’t know the lazy way to do that. Readers?

* * *

And the grass. How I hate grass! It’s work to cut it, but if you don’t cut it, it takes over everything, like some sort of science fiction monster.

Because that’s what I am, and I’m not ashamed of it. I’m proud of it!

I don’t like work. More subtly, I don’t like work that I shouldn’t have to do. I want the maximum yield for the minimum effort, defining yield not just as food, but as pleasure: Simply sitting in the sun in the lawn chair, listening to bees bumbling by, and spotting the occasional hummingbird counts for a lot, or would, if we could count pleasure. Why would I want to be working if I don’t have to?

That’s why I like sheet mulch. No weeding and very little watering. Weeding is work; it is, in fact, “stoop labor.” Why would anybody want to do it if they can avoid it? Peasants by the millions leave the country for the city to avoid it! Ditto watering (which if you’re not capturing it also costs money).

And that’s why I like winter sowing. Put the seeds in the milk jugs, set the milk jugs out, wait two months, boom. (Not to tempt the evil eye: No more milk jugs than yesterday’s have sprouted!* Still, it’s not really warm yet [crossed fingers]). No grow lights (money). No peat pots, or any other kind of pot (money). No trays (money). No moving trays about the house and then out in the garden (work). You get the idea.

I hope throughout the growing season I’ll have many more opportunities to explain how lazy I am!

I’m still “The iPad Gardener, though.” Using the iPad, for me, is all about learning to see. It’s not about using garden software to help me make decisions. I think I’ll make good decisions — that is, decisions that help me avoid work — only by really seeing what’s happening on this patch of land, and garden software, at best, operates at the level of climate zone, and not even micro-climate).

NOTE * IIRC, the rule of thumb is that 75% of milk jugs germinate. In past years, I have done much better than that.

Here’s the straw layer of the sheet mulch I laid down over the new beds near the sidewalk I’m going to plant this year, when I figure out what I want to plant. Despite being near the traffic, it’s in good shape.

I didn’t border these beds with bricks because bricks are pricey, and I haven’t discovered any chimneys being demolished around town, which is where I got the last batch from. But logs do the trick!

Notice how the Norway Maple Leaf is disfigured with cancerous dark-colored spots. That tree is a disease vector I should cut down, dry, and then heat the house with, although I do use the leaves to bank the house and mulch the beds. Trade-offs!

And I don’t know what that seed pod is; I grew some snow peas last year, but this looks like a pretty big pod for a snow pea. Maybe I’m being sent a message about what to grow in the new beds!

Brown, brown, brown. Carbon, carbon, carbon!

Actually, this isn’t really a worm’s eye view, since it’s not from underground. Since what’s going on this month is more about soil than anything else, I thought I’d put the iPad down on the ground and see what kind of shot it produced. Not very dramatic!

I’m really not sure how to visualize the slow rise of soil temperature and the increased activity of the fungus, worms, and macro- and micro-organisms, along with the seeds and the roots and the rhizomes. It’s like I need a “Soil Farm” that would work like an Ant Farm: A window into nature.

Time to stack the shovels for the year? Heading toward 40 today, up here in Maine. And 50 next week. Of course, the weather could be fooling us, luring us into relaxing before slamming us with more snow, or even a cold snap. I just hope the seeds and the seedlings are smarter than we humans are.

Last year’s sheet mulch will get layered over with this year’s. Forty or sixty days from now. Sigh.

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