Defying the very possible epigram of "one hit wonder" -- without necessarily even the "wonder" part to my credit -- I made a down payment this morning on the future. Here in the depths of this drought-stricken summer, with an eye toward succession planting, Amelia and I sowed the first seeds of a fall garden while her father Ben gave me a break from the watering.
Early this morning I resuscitated the tiller and prepared the several trenches and partial trenches ready for their second round. A couple of hours later, cabbage, butternut and buttercup squash, turnip, rutabagas, Brussels sprouts, and more beans were planted, markers were poked into the soil, and the existing crop's thirst was at least temporarily slaked. Still in hand are spinach, lettuce, carrot and kale, waiting a little longer for deeper fall -- and cooler weather -- harvest.
It's a helpful discipline, this looking ahead -- one that has never been my long suit. But when maturity is 95-100 days away, it is important to at least cast your mind that far forward, or there won't be much to show for the effort.
It is, I'm thinking, about time to start using the kitchen compost along with some of the other detritus from the rest of the yard as mulch to provide nourishment and protection from the heat. That, too, will feel like good use of our time and resources -- a first tiny inroad toward our own little permaculture. Steps toward the future, nourished by the past.
Life, it seems to me, is moving deeper and onward. And if the compost is any indication, richer.
No comments:
Post a Comment