Month: April 2019

Phase 1: Prep and Compost

tawitt

The garden of this house is what first attracted me to it. The yard was large, private, mature, and a little neglected. It had what people like about old, run-down houses: good bones. I knew I could do a lot with the space. But first it was going to require some clean-out, some trimming, some pruning, some removal of dying shrubbery and overgrown clumps of mess. I also like to start the compost bin as soon as possible, so that in a year or so when I need it, it will be ready.

I started the clean-up as soon as I moved in, even before I conceived of this website and blog. That means that some of the photos I post here about the prep and clean-up will be chronologically out-of-order. I don’t think this is a big deal, but I did want to acknowledge it. For example, the BEFORE PICTURE of the garden was taken AFTER I did a lot of the clean-up, tree trimming, and other pruning.

But there was still plenty to do this spring. Part of getting a new garden is finding out what, exactly, was already growing. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the old crusty bushes in the back were forsythia, an early blooming bush with yellow flowers.

Old and Crusty Forsythia

I decided to keep the forsythia. Early bloomers are good for bees. I trimmed the old growth and mulched. Here is the result:

Trimmed and Mulched Forsythia (with a sneak peek at the compost bin)

Not every set of bushes was so fortunate, however. The row of mostly dead red cedars in the middle of the grassy yard had to go. Red cedar can be a beautiful evergreen, but these ones were a tangled mess.

Because the red cedars were mostly dead they were easy to pull out without any specialized digging equipment

Here is the result, plus a bonus: a weeping pussy willow.

Hurray, the bushes are gone! Bonus: a weeping pussy willow (left) I planted at the same time.

I love weeping willows. As a child I dreamed of having a weeping willow fort to play in. Now my children will be able to realize that dream. I’m not kidding myself, though. I know for whom I planted this tree, and I know who is going to spend the most time playing under it. Me.

My kids are welcome to join me if they wish.

The weeping pussy willow is in bloom. The yellow fuzz around the furry catkins (what gives the pussy willow its name) are the flowers. The yellow color of the flowers tells us that this tree is male.

A weeping pussy willow is not a natural tree. It’s a graft. Weeping willow roots are topped with a pussy willow bush, and the two are grafted, or grown, together. The roots determine the structure, and the bush determines the look of the foliage. Horticulture is so cool.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I am going for a natural garden with primarily local or native species. There will be a few exceptions, and this weeping pussy willow is one of them. It was not part of my original plan, but I found this beautiful specimen on sale at the garden store when I was picking up compost bin construction materials and mulch, and I just had to have it. I did have to alter my overall plan to accommodate this tree (willows are fast growing and can grow to 50 feet in height), but my plan is flexible. This garden is for me, and if I want to follow a whim I may.

In addition to the prep and clean-up, another labor-intensive phase 1 step is building the COMPOST BIN.

Composting is a great way to enrich soil without having to buy a lot of fertilizers and so forth. You use plant-based food scraps and other garden discards like leaf litter, mash them together, turn the mess occasionally, and let the worms do their thing. In a few months to a year, the organic mess will become beautifully enriched garden soil.

There are many commercially available compost bins. None of the ones in my price range were big or robust enough. My backyard garden backs to the woods, and I have a lot of creatures who visit my garden: deer (of course), squirrels, rabbits, a groundhog, at least one gray fox, and tons of birds. These I have seen with my own eyes. My neighbor told me that he has seen a raccoon snooping about as well. The birds and squirrels aren’t the issue. The rabbits, deer, groundhog, and raccoon (especially the raccoon), are a different story. I need a compost bin that is sturdy enough to stand up to a raccoon.

Cinder blocks are my construction material of choice. They are beefy and cheap and allow moisture and air (necessary compost ingredients) to enter. They are also ugly, but I’ll deal with the unsightliness later. I chose a rectangular plot of land close to where my productive garden will go, and I got to work leveling it. It took a lot of digging because it’s situated on an incline. Why did I choose a spot on an incline? I can’t remember. Oh, right, so that I could utilize all the surrounding flat area for the actual garden beds. Sigh. After all the digging, it was time to start stacking. Cinder blocks are heavy!

The Compost Structure (not exactly a bin, is it?)

I chose a design with two sections. I like having at least two sections because one is the side I add to, and the other is the side I take from. That way, once composting is well established, I always have some ready to go and some cooking in the wings. I also like having my bin open to the ground so the worms can come on their own. The rotating barrel style bins require special additives to get the break-down started, and that’s too annoying for me to deal with. I also have plenty of space to build a structure. For those short on space or permission (renters) the barrel type could be ideal.

I haven’t finished building my compost structure yet. When I do I’ll post a picture. Partially finished, it’s working okay for now. I cover it at night with a chicken wire frame, which keeps any curious critters from contaminating the compost.

Two trees were also removed (yay, chainsaw work!), and two more need to come down. Although I worked as an arborist many years ago, I lack the safety equipment to take these two bigger trees down on my own, so I may need to contract a professional. I’m still assessing that.

And with that, Phase 1 is pretty much complete. While there will be more prep work to do as time goes on, that’s it for the big stuff.

The Plan

tawitt

It’s always good to start with a plan. My backyard garden plan has four phases. It’s ambitious, and because I am doing the work myself it will take between four and six years to complete. The plan is also subject to change, depending on several factors, foremost is cost. I’ve got a strict budget, but since I’m doing the labor myself I can spend the money on things like plants, which will be nice.

THE FOUR PHASES

Phase 1: Prep and Compost
Phase 2: Green Fencing, Pathways and Hardscaping
Phase 3: Productive Garden
Phase 4: Decorative Garden

The main idea or concept for my garden is natural wilderness. I plan to use primarily native plants for the decorative portions. I want my garden to look spontaneous, as though everything just happened to grow that way, but showcasing the most interesting features of each plant. I also want to promote and attract local wildlife, like butterflies, bees, birds, etc.

However, I will include some non-native species, like clumping bamboos and willows for the green fences. This is important because I don’t want the deer to eat them. Deer are probably the biggest pest known to home gardeners, and they deserve an entry of their own. Suffice it to say, my plan is geared towards reducing their access to my yard. It’s difficult to make anything deerproof, but smart planning can help.

Before starting any project, it’s important to contact Miss Utility for your area. Miss Utility is the government program that keeps track of and marks all underground infrastructure like water mains, cables, electric and gas lines, etc. You definitely don’t want to damage any of these essential services. I contacted them a few weeks ago, and they have since come out to my property and marked everything. In my case, I only have one line to worry about, an electric line that runs from the back of my house to my neighbors. I have notated the placement and am now ready to start.

Let Phase 1 commence!

The Waiting

tawitt

Like most writers, I have always enjoyed writing. My mother taught me to keep a journal since the time I could hold a pencil, and I faithfully recorded the things of my life that meant the most to me, and even the things that meant nothing. It was and is a valuable part of my life.

I didn’t enjoy reading until the summer after 5th grade. That summer I discovered worlds I had only hoped, somewhere, existed. I discovered the parts of humanity that I had never seen, the good and the bad. I discovered stories that made me feel. I discovered in myself a desire to create my own.

And I did.

Writing was a hobby I enjoyed, something I did for myself. Until a few years ago, I never dared believe that I could take my writing—No—that my writing could take me anywhere else. But then one day as I read a book, a thought, insidious in its way, took hold in my mind: Why not me?

So I did one of the hardest things I’ve done. I wrote a novel of 105,000 words in a year, and I did it during nap times and between work and familial obligations. I sacrificed sleep and professional opportunities and personal satisfactions, and I asked myself: Was it worth it?

I didn’t have an answer then.

The editing began. I laid my heart bare in my manuscript, and I subjected it to the harsh but necessary criticisms of others. It hurt. But growing beyond our current capacity, bursting that which contains us, hurts. When the hurting was done, I looked at what I had wrought, and I thought: Yes. This was worth it.

The first rejection hurt more than I thought it would. I was expecting it, you see, because most manuscripts are rejected (several times) before they are accepted. I was expecting it. But I suppose my hope was greater than I knew.

It was a good rejection. I have since learned that there are such things. The publisher told me that my manuscript would not be financially successful for them, but they asked me to send something else if I had it.

I didn’t. 🙁

I had spent five months waiting in nervous anticipation to hear “No”.

I sat on my manuscript for a year then. Tweaking it, improving it, but mostly I started working on something else. Another novel. A short story or two. I submitted my good short story to a magazine. Their auto-responder told me that, due to the amount of submissions, it would be eight months before I heard back.

That was two months ago. The waiting is not something I was ready for when I decided to embark upon the Writer’s Path. Waiting is stressful, it’s hard, but it’s necessary and understandable, and it’s annoying that it’s necessary and understandable. We all have a certain amount of time in this world, and for writers it’s inevitable that some of it must be spent waiting.

And I’m ready now. I’m ready for the waiting this time. I did my research, and I’m not taking a shot in the dark. I’m submitting my manuscript again. I hope for the best but I know what to expect.

Was it worth the waiting?

Everyone who has passed through it says yes. I’ll let you know when I’ve passed through it too.