So here we go.
Day One at scenic Sumner, Washington's community garden. And what an outstanding day it was!
I began by driving over to the Agri-Shop in Auburn to see my new best friend about some fertilizer and some seeds. I don't know the womans name, but she absolutely loves what she's doing and seems even more excited than I am for my initial season of do-it-yourself produce production. After leading me around like a child to locate a 50 lb bag of lime and a 20 lb bag of cottonseed meal along with various size boxes of bone meal, kelp meal and any other exotic substances needed to create a wonderful and productive garden, she filled my need for immediately plantable seeds. Loading me up with packets of organic seeds for such incredibly healthful varieties of vegetables as peas (two types, one for shelling and one for eating whole) an absolute rainbow of colorful beets, more than one type of carrot, cabbage, and Lord knows what else, she infomed me I would be terribly remiss in not purchasing seeds for her favorite vegetable, kohlrabi. Hell, who was I to argue? Next she picked out both red and yellow potatoes, tossed a hoe into my basket and took me up front where she ducked behind the counter to make me up a secret envelope, made of an orange sticky note, full of what she said were "very special" French Sorrel seeds. French Sorrel? (shrug) What the hell? I'll plant it. I was then asked for a fairly sizable sum of cash and sent packing with a wave and smile to begin my foray into the world of...well, you know.
After loading all these various tools of the trade into the back of the Knifemobile I took a quick swing by the house in order to load up the other implements of garden construction and destruction I had forgotten earlier. After the shovels, rakes, buckets, etc. were safely stored in the back of the van I headed out to Sumner and what is to be my home in the garden away from home for the rest of the summer.
Now you've all seen my first view of the community garden as a whole in my first post. Just a few steps from where that photo was taken is a dilapidated old shed, taped to which are a few brightly colored sheets of paper printed with our plot assignments.
After much studying I was able to ascertain that our plot would be #68, right next to our neighbors and friends the Smeltzers who had plot #67. Well, isn't that just cozy as all hell? And upon further review I noticed that plot #71 had actually been assigned to some fella named Fos. Hmmmm.....
Picking up my buckets, rakes, hoes, bags, etc. I began the walk to #68. Now I don't know exactly why the people paying the most money get the plots furthest from the parking lot, but apparently thats the way they do things in ass-backwards scenic Sumner, Warshington so I held my tongue (there was no one there to hear my bitching anyway) and trudged my heavily laden butt on over to the far back corner of what will surely soon be the most prolific pea patch in the state. Setting all my gear on the ground and looking back toward the van I immediately vowed to bring not only some sort of cart in the future, but also a chair or two along with about 10 gallons of ice water (in order to keep myself properly hydrated of course. If I was to fall out way the hell out here in the middle of this dirt pasture I might not be found for weeks.)
So here I was. Finally, after weeks of anticipation and lack of planning I was standing at the corner of my future means of food production for an entire family. Plot #68, dammit! Hell yes. Lets take a look, shall we? I know you can hardly stand the suspense for one minute more so...
Holy crap! Now I had imagined in my mind four orderly little plots of land roughly the size of a parking space, and in my mind I had come to grips with this image and all seemed hunky dory and certainly workable, even for a novice, ok, completely ignorant, gardener such as myself. No one had deemed it necessary to mention the fact that my four 6x12 foot plots were now going to be combined to make one incredibly large 40 acre section of land that I would certainly need livestock and large tractor type vehicles in order to maintain. This goddamned thing was a large as my family room, and it didnt even have furniture to take up space. My heart sank. My head swam. I had to get hold of myself. I could do this, right? Well? Answer me!
Sighing mightily, I looked around to see what was happening at the other small farms and I was quick to notice most had been surrounded by string, presumably to keep other gardeners out, as most rodents could just go under and most vegetables are fairly stationary in their existence. String? I didn't have string. That little Miss Knowitall at the Agri-Shop hadn't even mentioned string, had she? No she hadn't and I realized I would now have to trek my fat ass all the way back to that damned van so I could drive around scenic Sumner, Warshington in search of a store that might sell string. Well, so be it. This is what I did.
Upon my return to plot #68 I was feeling better about my prospects as a gardener (hell, I'd figured out the string thing, hadn't I?) and I began encircling my lovely lower 40 with twine so as not to look nearly as ign'ant as I am, then grabbing my shovel I dug in in earnest.
Now, it is my understanding that the entire area had been rototilled a week or so earlier, but having done a little research on the subject I had educated myself on the potential problem of plowpan while studying up for this project by reading Steve Solomon's gardening bible, Growing Vegetables West of the Cascades: The Complete Guide to Natural Gardening. Keep in mind the following explanation may be incomplete and/or completely inaccurate.
Plowpan is a compression of the dirt about 7 or 8 inches below the surface, created by generations of farmers working the land with heavy equipment. While turning the soil on top the plow tends to compress the soil below causing a much more compact base than would be found under more normal conditions. This plowpan is usually a bit too deep for the rototiller to reach, but close enough to the surface to possibly negatively affect the root systems of certain varieties of garden vegetables. The cure is to take a shovel and push it directly into the soil until it is deep enough that you feel the harder earth beneath the tilled top layer. Then you pull back until you feel a small pop sort of thing and you move the shovel a few inches back and do it again. I was happily going along popping plowpan and listening to good earthworking music on my ipod, stopping occasionally to strike a first rate gardeners pose by leaning on my shovel when the answer man came along and asked if I had any questions.
"I don't know," I responded. I'm just doing what I read. I did hear they were going to till this a second time. did they ever do that?"
After hemming and hawing for a few minutes and not really giving me a straight answer, the answer man asked me if I had any other questions.
"Well, do I need to remove the clumps of grass or will the just die and help in this ongoing process by adding natural material back into the soil?"
"Oh," replied the answer man, "You better remove that stuff or it'll all come back. And wouldn't that be a pain in the ass? Any more questions?"
"Ermmmm, no. See ya".
So I dropped my shovel and grabbed a rake and started raking like hell to get all the clumps of grassy dirt removed from my family room sized pea patch garden plot #68. I raked and raked. I stopped, struck a pose leaning on my rake handle for a few minites, vowing again to bring that damned chair and 10 gallon bucket of ice water the next time, and then I raked some more until I finally felt satisfied I had removed all that needed to be removed.
I then struck another pose and contemplated my next move which would be the addition of lime to my soil. Now I had read that Northwest soil requires a good buttload of lime per acre, and relying on math skills learned while sleeping through Mrs. Lynch's 8th grade Algebra class I was able to do a bit of figgerin' (as Ellie Mae Clampitt would have said) and come to the conclusion that I would need about 3lbs per 6x12 plot, or 12 lbs altogether. This I sprinkled evenly over the soil by tossing handfulls this way and that and hoping I didn't miss a spot. Next I needed to sort of scratch it into the top 2 inches or so of soil with my hoe and proceeded to attempt this seemingly simple little project. Not so simple at all. Some areas scratched rather nicely while other areas were damned near impossible to make even the slightest dent. I worked and scratched and sweated, and struck poses while wishing for chairs and bathtubs of ice water until I could work and scratch no more. And do you think my little plot #68 now looked all fluffy and soft? Do you think, after all this sweat and life energy expended my square of clumpy land was ready to produce a myriad of nutritious vegetables for my family?
No, of course not. It was still a clumpy patch of land with little lumps of sod peeking up through the soil. Sod which had be turned under by the rototiller, I might add and was therefore invisible to me earlier, but now had been exposed thanks to my incredibly persistent hoeing. I had also uncovered another fact previously unnoticed. This garden was basically a clay pit and was in many ways unworkable given the tools I had in my possesion. Nevertheless, feeling as though I had accomplished something in 3 hours time I picked up all my crap, took one last look back at my newly worked, roped off square of super rich northwest soil...
...and began my long trek back to the car with visions of the rows of seeds to be planted the next day. And who do you think I met on the way to the car? Hell yes! Another Answer Man, thats who. And this Answer Man shall have his name capitalized as he appears to be the Chief Answer Man for the entire project.
"So how's it going?" asked Answer Man.
"I have no idea".
"Ha. Which plot are you out there?" asked Answer Man
"#68. Couey. Way the hell over there. If you have some binoculars I'll point it out to you".
"Ha. How did you find the soil today? Did it seem ok?"
"Well, being a beginner at this whole thing, Answer Man, I really don't know, but I spent alot of time out there and it seems to me I really didn't make a damned but of difference. I thought when I left it would look all nice, smooth and fine like some of these others, but even after 3 hours if still seems clumpy and full of grass...and quite frankly, I'm afraid its alot like clay out there. Could that be?"
"Yeah, its pretty high in clay, but I think another rototilling will take care of that don't you? I was hoping to get one out here later in nthe week so you guys can sign up for 2 hour shifts and rototill your gardens if you're so inclined. My goal is to get all of these plots to be as light and fluffy as these two over here. I'm afraid the soil varies quite a bit though from area to area and this being the innaugural season for the Sumner Community Garden we are kind of learning as we go along. But don't worry. We'll get the rototiller down here and shoot you an email by the middle of the week to let you know whats going on...and remember, you can always ask me for any help you need. Thats why I'm here."
"Damn it Answer Man. I wish you had been here to tell me all this 3 hours ago. I was hoping to plant tomorrow, but I guess thats out".
"Take the day off".
"Sounds good. I'll do that. Send me that email sometime before July, right?"
And with that I headed off to the knifemobile, leaving Answer Man to answer the questions of more experienced gardeners while I contemplated the one thing I had learned during the previous few hours.
I was gonna need some damned gloves.
--It's Fosco, Dammit!
