Feb. 27, 2010

Funny thing about the community garden in February. No one around but me and some mud. I stopped by and picked up some composted manure today to spread on plot #68. Four 1.5 cu. ft bags to be exact. I was looking at my bible, "Growing Vegetables West of the Cascades" this morning (its a wonderful guide for those of you in the area) and according to the author, and much to my surprise, no more than 1/4 inch of compost is needed in a Western Washington garden every year. This has something to do with potassium levels and the needs of the human body, most of which I don't understand, but Steve Solomon hasn't let me down yet so I'm going with what he says until everything dies. At that point I may change things up a bit. Well, anyway, I read the note on the bag that said one bag would provide 1/8" of compost for 144 sq. ft of garden space and being the mathematical genius that I am I realized that was perfect for a 12' x12' garden. Relying on said mathematical geniusity I came immediately to the conclusion that for a 24' x 24' garden I would require 4 bags in order to apply manure 1/4 inch deep. I, of course, used the wrong formula for the equation at hand and came up with half of what I needed.

Figures.

So as I headed into the garden shed to dig out the community wheelbarrow, and as I hefted composted manure from the back of the car into that wheelbarrow and wheeled it out through the wet grass and the mud I thought to myself, "This is way too early in the year to be doing this crap." As I hoed out the overly large clumps of grass and weeds that had taken residence in the garden I thought to myself, "What the hell was I thinking?", and as I began chopping up all the old tomato vines from last summer and loaded them into the wheelbarrow for transportation to the compost bin I thought, "Hell, I still have 34 pints of pickled beets, 4 qts of canned tomatoes, 3 qts of canned spaghetti sauce and a buttload of frozen beans. I don't need to do all this crap this year. I should just skip this damned garden and watch TV or some silly shit."

Soon though, my attitude began to change. As I dumped the compost into 4 even piles, one in each of 4 sections of the plot, I began to feel less frustrated. Life seemed to level out a bit. I leaned on my rake for a few minutes, watching juncos and sparrows flitting from the rotting sunflower stalks still standing in the gardens of my neighbors and I realized I was content. I really didn't want to be done for the day. Unfortunately I knew that was ineveitable so I started raking the piles, slowly, more carefully than I probably did last year, as I worked the compost from the center of each garden sector to it edges.

Now I realize this is in some ways a wasted effort. The weeds are coming back, I'm sure, even as I type this silly nonsense, and in a week or two, or maybe even a day it will be impossible to tell I was even at the garden today. But as the rains come, soaking the soil into an even less workable state, I know the organic nutrients of that compost will leech into that soil, bringing it back to something resembling the plantable condition of last season. And as I stood there raking into the earth the nutrients I had so selfishly removed last summer and looking around at the decay of spent, brown crops, and the new, healthy growth of my neighbors onions and garlic something just felt right. I guess life resembles life on all levels. Growth and decay. One never cancelling out the other.