Once a year or so I actually chase birds from the yard. Saturday was The major ‘turning of the soil’ day in the garden, with me getting off my lazy ass to acquire enough cow shit @ the hardware store to set up the garden. Turning the soil and mixing in the manure means that many of a gardens best frenz*, juicy fat worms, are exposed to their main winged predators: that beautiful thrush the American Robin. We all know the robin. We should, @ least: decades before I ever was able to mimic the starlings whistle or could tell the difference between a Ring Billed Gull and the Herring Gull**, I knew instantly what a robin was (meaning when I was, say, eight). The image of a robin caterwalking swiftly across a lawn and then stopping, seemingly staring or listening for something, then lashing down to pull a worm out of the ground, is a deeply common site in the city. Sure, y look to the lawn, any lawn, and y’ll see the bird. However, I want my bestus garden tools***, those worms, digesting the muck and making it live giving, or life enhancing, rather. So, after I turned the soil, added the muck, watered it down, and put some plants into the ground, I stayed sentry on my plot. This sux, ‘cause I’m totally about the avaitorium my yard has become and the birds should feel invited and safe. The first robin I had to evict was surprised. H just walked a bit out of the way ‘ cause I’m sure he recognized me as a on predator. However, I finally had to close approach, and off he flew. The rest of the robins I chased went away out quickly.
One of this farmers sons favourite sites is turning the soil where I had dumped compost months before. When that happens, the soil is overrun with worms- huge, fat, and in dense numbers. It’s always the combo of old tea bags, banana peels, egg shells etc. that dense up the concentration of worms. And the turning of said soil means the densing up of the robins. Today is a new day, and the worms have had a day to adjust, so until the rest of the garden comes in (see below), the soil sentry duty has been stood down.
In addition to turning the soil and adding the manure, I put the first of the plants into the ground. I have already sprouted tomatoes, peas, and Brussels sprouts in pots, but the peas were just bursting their roots out of the bottom of their containers. It would have been criminally vulgar to have kept them incased longer, so a Saturday of ‘getting some things done’ came @ the rite time. It’s way too early to put in the tomatoes (another 3 weeks or so) and the sprouts are really way too early (ideally sprouts should be put in in July and harvested in September/October, but stupidly I’ll probably put them in way early-such interesting plants), but the pea rotation has started. Every two weeks another wave is to be planted, so one can have a constant harvest. These peas last year was one of the best things I’ve ever grown. I only had two harvests (my first try, this year I got a little bit more experience), but Shipley (or was it Gallo) did that shit up super tasty one Sunday last summer. A summer of growing is upon us.
By the way, I wrote before on the 3am concerts the Robins have on returning home late @ nite. Multiply this by 30x.
*=well, sun and water are also key crew members
**=It’s all about the ring on the bill, dummy!!
***=well, the pitchfork is actually the bestus of all garden tools, @ least for me. Funny how millenniums of farming on earth has given us these different tools that are so good @ what they are intended for. The spade is another world beater, along with the rake, the hoe, the thing that groundscrewpeople @ baseball games settle the soil, the pick axe (my dad had wondrous tools that he left me), and etc…..
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