Wednesday, August 2, 2017

Garden Notes

When we were new to the house, I asked a fellow to skim the sod off the front bank so I wouldn't have to worry about mowing my toes. The bare soil grew spectacular crops of weeds so stubborn that it took an Indian digging stick, aka patcha, to root them out. Thirty-five years of annual mulching with leaves of the towering deciduous shade trees on the block have produced soil that, even when bare and relatively dry, gives up noxious weeds with a gentle tug. This is progress.

My first house came with a cast brass watering rosette that I foolishly let go at some point. If you run across one, grab it. It's ten times the tool of the current stamped steel and plastic models. The same is true for the adjustable nozzle that resembles the one that is mounted on fire hoses.

I sheet compost all garden waste and decided to use the west lawn as the staging area for mowing garden rubbish. It looked a little ratty after processing major detritus from the front bank, but I reasoned that watering the debris and raking it before repeated mowings would accelerate decomposition and produce one happy sward. So far, so good, and the birdies love the place.

At the moment, robins show up before dawn, crows and squirrels arrive with true daylight, and then members of various flocks go about their business.  Once I learned that setting up a bird feeder includes establishing a lifelong responsibility to the users, I decided I'd rather plant nourishing flora and let the birds take care of themselves-30-

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