4. Bed Planning
When I started growing things in the ground at house rentals over a decade ago, I was relegated to big dreams in small spaces; cultivating land that I could measure in the square feet, not the acre. The last farm I made was a mini urban farm with 21 raised beds of varying sizes, where I grew over 70 varieties of fruits and veggies, making use of pretty much every available square foot my chickens weren’t claiming for their own (RIP Parkland Homestead Farm).
Now, in planning this market garden, I am overwhelmed by all of the space: where once I had to squeeze a variety of small and big plants into tight spaces, I now have room to spread, and I find myself wondering how I am going to manage it all, especially without things like tractors or fences or income to throw at the farm venture.
Additionally, in a smaller space, I had a much better handle on soil health. Here, I have acres of water-logged clay, yellow-gray and slick. Part of me thinks that I may just have to bite the proverbial bullet and buy soil to get started. But the small sliver of my rationale knows that not only is trucking in soil not the point, it is also not financial feasible.
So this first crop may not turn out lush and wonderful the way I imagine it. It will probably be sparse, spindly, and sick, recovering from generations of conventionally-grown row crops (not that there’s anything wrong with that, per se: that way of farming feeds every grocery store produce buyer. And Americans aren’t great about acknowledging that many of us can do better, making some pretty small changes: eating seasonally, eating locally, buying from farmers market vendors. Guys, it’s not hard to only eat strawberries in the summer. They taste better, too, and you’ll be contributing to real people in the local economy, rather than fattening the wallets of corporate share holders who take advantage of farmers who have been caught in the cycle of poverty Big Ag perpetuates. Okay, sermon over, but there will be more pulpit moments, just you wait…).
Needless to say, this last week, I’ve planted strawberries, potatoes, spinach, kale, wildflowers, and set up a couple very small tunnels to shield the plants from lower night temperatures and the crazy wind we get almost every day.
Tomorrow, I’ve planned to built more low-tunnels (shout-out to rebar, flexible plumbing hose, polypropylene bags, playground sand, and the star of the show, agricultural fabric!), do some covering of crops that don’t really need a full tunnel, and of course, more seeds that can withstand the cold (since I don’t have a space to start seeds right now, on account of the fact that the house is a disaster area with construction debris and garbage everywhere. I keep meaning to load the truck and go to the dump, but it keeps raining, and when it’s not raining, I’m trying to build beds. Kind of feel like that joke about the leaky roof Grisman and Garcia’s version of “Arkansas Traveler”: A man says to his neighbor, “Can’t you see that you roof is leaking? Why don’t you fix it?” and his neighbor replies, “Well, right now, it’s raining too hard, and when the suns a-shinin’, it don’t leak!”). Here’s to hoping I get more potatoes, strawberries, cabbage, mesclun and arugula, carrots, swiss chard, onion, pac choy, Brussel sprouts, broccoli, sugar snap peas, snow peas, head lettuce, radish, beets, turnips, parsnips, and celery into the ground and covered tomorrow.
