Missions of the SoilI am happy to report that the tilling went well. The machine was sleepy at first, and hesitant to wake, but we poked it into a happy burble and put it into the earth to turn it. I had thought that I had good soil, but I know it now: the machine nosed down into loam and spun happy through it all with ease. I sent perhaps 18 cubic feet of rotting leaves into the ground of the northern bed, and heaped the rest on the southern beds to rest and rot some more. We also turned the ground of the bed beside the house, which gives me something of a problem.
By the side of the house will live the nightshades and the basil; I think they will have a happy home there. Scattered around the back bed are containers large and small for the herbs (the chives are happy in their new home, safe from the lemon balm). This leaves over a long wide plot, empty and hungry to grow things. The problem is not a bad one, to be sure: I simply don't know what I want to grow back there yet, and now that the sun is kissing the hills without teasing, I should figure that out.
The mint is making progress (I did not expect less). I do not yet know if the neighbor's pines are white pines. The strawberries seem content, and there are little yellow dandelions everywhere.
Bloody dandelions.
All content under copyright by the author. Dancing is permitted. The strange deltic glyphs in the sand under tidal flow are a pleasure to watch in their deepening. Offer not valid in Kansas. We put it down and then we lost it. It all happens in the corner of the eye. Commentary accepted at pen@goob.com, although the traps are agressive and the pointy bits simply drip with dark liquour. We have a dog, but we do not own it. Thank you.