I got behind. I could say the behinds got ahead of me. I received word from our friends at the horse farm that the pile that supplies our gardens with manure was overflowing. I rushed off to remedy the situation and deposited two pickup loads in my investment account. I feel rich and getting richer each time I glance at the steaming mound in our field. It's our growth fund. Eventually, I hope to have enough composted crap to feed my gardens the rest of my life. (I want to live a very long time.)
Moving from one stink to another, I planted garlic in a single row around one of my nine 15' x 35' garden beds. By spring it will look like green candles on a birthday cake. If this little odor fence doesn't discourage the varmints, it will deserve at least an "8" for style. Some say you should wait until the longest day of the year to plant garlic. I vote for November, when the ground is soft and dry.
I'm conducting an experiment, inspired by Will Allen, an entrepreneurial genius who operates the last remaining farm within the city limits of Milwaukee and heats his greenhouses with compost. (Check him out at www.growingpower.org.) I deposited some of the manure in a long oak box Karen installed in our greenhouse. Will it help keep the greenhouse warm this winter?
I like to think my gardening efforts will leave messages for future grandchildren. Maybe I should bury a letter, too. Virginia's grandfather did.
The Bowman Women; A Work In Progress
1 month ago