Spring comes with a fury matched only by the fever inside of the Suburban Farmer. As is expected, a dozen or so competing responsibilities popped up to try and keep this fellow out of his natural habitat. Alas, that which fell by the wayside were the stories of success and total failure. Here goes…
I dug furrows with the canal wrench, piling deep loamy soil for later planting. This is a departure from previous years where I didn’t believe furrows were needed. After last year’s rains and the ensuing root rot, I was born again: furrows are indispensible. After that weekend, the rains came.
During this period, I started my seeds in the re-commissioned greenhouse. The chickens are happily back in the A-frame. Everything started spectacularly. During one particularly sunny weekend in late March, I finished the high shelf in the greenhouse that was not hung last fall due to quickly changing weather. It served wonderfully. I, however, did not. For probably a period of three consecutive days, I forgot to water the plants up top and lost a great many of my seedlings. So I had to buy eggplant.
Not daunted, I have now most everything in, save the money crops (tomatoes and peppers).
My friend’s urban farm (the one we hand dug with pick-axes, shovels, dynamite, and many, many tears for the fallen) needed softening. She located a huge pile of free leaf compost at one of the local arboretums. All we had to do was go get it.
The truck was beyond my servicing. Perhaps I’ve gone soft, but the idea of messing with the fuel tank in my driveway – situated between houses with no room to spare – gave me pause. Two large later to a very happy mechanic, she was running again. And she was put to the test. We filled the bed twice with rich, black compost that smelled just like an open cesspool. Ahh, sweet relaxation.
One and a half trucks were delivered to her abode, with the remainder going into my garden to keep the weeds down between the rows. So far, so good.
Another few weeks and everything else will be in and sustaining itself just like nature intended. This will leave me to other ungodly tasks in the house. Oh how I loathe the idea…
Until next time.
