Growing Food: Then and Now

 

Attempting to grow food, I should say. There are always surprises--thwarted plans, the odd disaster wrought by weather or animals.

This year, self-made disaster looms. In the spring we decided to try something called soil solarization to address the blighted tomatoes of recent years. Tomatoes planted in certain areas of the garden would thrive at first and later wilt. They looked as though they needed more water, but water didn't help. We formed a loose theory (thanks, Google!) that bacteria in the soil were responsible for the blight. Solarization--sealing the earth with clear plastic tarp, allowing bacteria-killing heat to build--would solve the problem, only we must have done it badly. We started late, so the plastic wasn't left in place long enough. Weeds (which we were supposed to remove first, but who knew? I thought they'd suffocate) yellowed deceptively while adapting to their outdoor terrarium, muscling their way toward gaps in the sheeting. It was a big overgrown mess when we finally pulled the plastic away.

Tim wanted to roto-till the weeds into oblivion, but I had just read an article on the excellent Nourish Project site that claimed roto-tilling harms the soil--instead, "lasagna gardening" is the way to go. No problem: all we had to do was cover the dirt with layers of newspaper, compost, straw, and cardboard, which sounded straightforward and eco-friendly. Layers, no digging, materials at hand put to good use. And it goes without saying that I make a mean lasagna, so problem solved, right?

Well, the cardboard and newspapers blew around the yard despite our watering them. The patchwork of flattened boxes, now anchored with fence posts and logs, many decorated with colourful corporate logos, lent a warehouse aesthetic to our patch of paradise. It was, in my mother-in-law's oft-used phrase, a dog's breakfast. Apparently I missed the Part 2 Lasagna Garden post, which contained troubleshooting instructions that would have been handy to have. 

Ultimately, Tim dumped piles of grass clippings over the plot, opting for camouflage. He refrained from outright blaming me, while clearly wishing for a quick gas-powered solution. One of us likes to plant seeds in straight lines using string and sticks and neat labels; one of us can't manage anything more than scattering--guess who is who? After much digging, I was able to clear small strips and plant tomatoes and basil, but most of the garden will lie fallow this year. There will be no squash, corn, sunflowers, or peppers, and the whole is such a mess that I can't bear to post a picture. Maybe later. 

What we have is still going to be great: two small raised beds planted by the kids, 16 tomatoes in the ground, and several more in containers. If no blight strikes, my crap methods will be vindicated.

I meant to post these pictures, taken toward the end of May, before now. 

          Then:

new pear tree, birthday gift for Tim

garlic awakening

child planters--carrots, mesclun, two kinds of beans

beginnings (and resurgence of small strawberry patch on right)

rhubarb I haven't killed yet--yes, you can kill it

future strawberries

various (unlabelled, naturally) tomatoes grown from seed

apple tree

          Now: