Last week a group of us, mostly septuagenarians, got together to make
compost for a community perennial garden. It was billed as a
demonstration by Patryk, who is a master of soil chemistry,
experienced organic gardener and a veteran tinkerer with biochar. Joe from
Mountain Gardens was there with his new apprentice Josh, as well as Jim, another longtime organic grower, Gred, everyone's favorite foreman, and myself. I'm an adequate organic gardener, and founder with some neighbors of the first garden at Arthur Morgan School, back in 1975. I didn't have a very good sense of what I was doing, but now the garden is an integrated part of the curriculum at the school.
I've made compost
ever since I started gardening. In the old days, I turned it often,
and put cottonseed meal (non-organic!) in the pile with the horse
manure, food waste, and leaves to hasten the heating process. It
worked well. These past few years, I've done a passive pile, turning
out deep brown soil every spring for my home garden. I decided it was
time to learn from a master.
We alternated horse
manure, and occasionally fresh cow manure, with carboniferous
material - food waste and sawdust - layering in thin crusts of
biochar for structure. None of this was new. What was new was the
layers of chopped up corn stalks, which will allow air to get deep
into the pile to help drive the process faster. It was fun working
with the team. Since we added water from the creek as we went along,
we covered it with a tarp to prevent this week's rain messing up our
careful hydration. We'll see how it heats up.
In the midst of
building the pile, Jim yelled over to Patryk, "Bet you never
thought we'd farm together here again." Indeed, they had been
partners at Creekside Farm years ago, a partnership that did not go
well. The final episode featured Patryk's piling materials in his
truck from their joint building project, and attempting to drive
away. Jim jumped in the pick-up, grabbing building materials he
considered his, strewing them along the route as Patryk drove away.
It was like a marriage break-up.
Now, Patryk was quiet for a second,
then looked over at Jim with a smile. "Everything comes
around." Indeed it does. As
we worked, we talked about the increased necessity with a pandemic
underway for growing local food. Patryk said, "We've known this
was coming for a long time. And we've also known there would be no
warning." This is the one we've been waiting for, in fear and
trembling. And we are the ones we've been waiting for. The time to
respond, not just emergency public health crisis style, but systemic
rebuilding, is now.
Folks are stocking
up on materials to make tinctures for boosting the immune system,
Chinese medicine style. Our recently created South Toe Mutual Aid
Society is excited about the mutual aid we can provide each other
from this kind of collaboration. Over in the hoop greenhouse,
covered with shade cloth, a much younger man, Nick, cut stem sections
for rooting from four varieties of elderberry that Patryk procured.
Elderberry juice will be part of the tinctures that are in the works.
The hoophouse is for propagating nursery stock to plant in the Miles
Food Forest across the river. In addition to the elderberries, we
have paw paws, mulberries, and persimmon. These will be added to the
collection of pecans, walnuts, and chestnuts, along with blueberries
and raspberries, already planted in the Miles Food Forest.
Before I left, I had
the occasion to personally bless Jim Stockwell (I wanted to bless
everyone there, but he presented his face at the right moment). I
blessed him for all the gifts he has given this community, his skill
as a gardener, and his willingness to work on community projects. He
gave me a smile, shrugged, and said, "Bob, you're always giving
me your blessing." I suppose I should go back and bless the
others, who may find it more of a novel experience.