To get something big, you have to start small.
Take old veggie scraps from your kitchen and garden, toss them into a composter, add twigs and leaves and a little water and turn it often and it magically becomes vitamin- and mineral- rich compost.
I love watching my gloves get dirty as the composted soil clings to them. Even castoffs have a purpose. The soil softens and smells peaty and rich, and I move the earthworms aside as preparations are underway for a deep base for the young roots to stretch out and grow.
One by one the sown plants that lined your counter or the ones bought at the nursery are rehomed and marked and a drip line brought. You leave them, tiny and small, wondering how they will face the elements and birds and put a big stake next to them for good luck.
The sun comes, and sprouts — four leaves, eight, twelve, and then flowers. From the kitchen window you can watch the beds change from mostly brown soil to green as the little plants grow and then burst into bloom. To discourage the birds, you tie Mylar strips to the plants and give them some vitamin water during the growing season and some ladybugs for the pests. And then it’s a wait and watch.
Some of them make it, most of them do. You imagine the harvest basket with something in it, and before you know it you’re knee deep in tomatoes and carrying a pail. You scour recipes to use them up. You send veggies to work and leave them with the postmistress for your neighbors.
In no time the pantry and freezer is taken over by jars with hand-printed labels. The family have become seasonal eaters without even realizing it.
Late in the fall, the garden crumbles and limbs drape over the walkways. The last veggies of the season are picked, and the plants head to the composter for next year. I sure love it here.
Take old veggie scraps from your kitchen and garden, toss them into a composter, add twigs and leaves and a little water and turn it often and it magically becomes vitamin- and mineral- rich compost.I love watching my gloves get dirty as the composted soil clings to them. Even castoffs have a purpose. The soil softens and smells peaty and rich, and I move the earthworms aside as preparations are underway for a deep base for the young roots to stretch out and grow.
One by one the sown plants that lined your counter or the ones bought at the nursery are rehomed and marked and a drip line brought. You leave them, tiny and small, wondering how they will face the elements and birds and put a big stake next to them for good luck.The sun comes, and sprouts — four leaves, eight, twelve, and then flowers. From the kitchen window you can watch the beds change from mostly brown soil to green as the little plants grow and then burst into bloom. To discourage the birds, you tie Mylar strips to the plants and give them some vitamin water during the growing season and some ladybugs for the pests. And then it’s a wait and watch.
Some of them make it, most of them do. You imagine the harvest basket with something in it, and before you know it you’re knee deep in tomatoes and carrying a pail. You scour recipes to use them up. You send veggies to work and leave them with the postmistress for your neighbors.In no time the pantry and freezer is taken over by jars with hand-printed labels. The family have become seasonal eaters without even realizing it.
Late in the fall, the garden crumbles and limbs drape over the walkways. The last veggies of the season are picked, and the plants head to the composter for next year. I sure love it here.
