Posted on Thursday, March 12, 2009 - 9:23 pm:

quote:

THIS is how I know it’s time to plant peas: the winter jasmine is blooming on the south side of our farmhouse in Maryland; the bluebirds are building their nests again in the hollows of the locust trees; and the ground, so frozen in February, has thawed.

Last week, my boyfriend, Rock, and I ventured into the vegetable garden, where the raised beds, full of compost and earthworms, are the first to warm up in March. I picked up a handful of soil and pressed it together, as if making a snowball, while Rock surveyed the rusted tomato cages and dead plants we should have pulled up last fall, saying, “Look at this mess.”

The dirt crumbled in my hand, and I held it under his nose.

“Smell,” I said.

“Just plant the peas, Bugsy,” he replied.

Rock likes to kid me about the microscopic parasites my acupuncturist told me are in the soil (though I don’t believe it). “Wear gloves!” she says. But I love the feel of the earth between my fingers. And I don’t want to worry about this stuff all the time; I’d stop breathing air (because of what’s in it) and drinking water (ditto).

This time of year, I like to hold the soil in my hand to see if it forms a gummy wet ball or crumbles nicely, like chocolate cake.

If it is too wet and cold, our clay-based soil will form concrete around any seeds that are planted, and they will then have trouble germinating and possibly even rot.

Worse still, working the soil when it is wet disturbs its architecture — the complex layering and tunneling produced by thousands of microbes, earthworms, mealy bugs and countless other organisms that not only bring air into the garden but also fertilize it with their infinitesimal excretions and, after they die, the nutrients from their decomposing bodies. Dig too soon, and that little underground city will collapse into the aforementioned concrete.

So wait patiently for the chocolate cake stage. If you don’t, it will take months — and tons of compost — to repair the damage.

As soon as the ground is ready, though, don’t lose any time, because this early crop is actually stunted by temperatures that are warmer. Once the mercury climbs into the 70-degree range we humans find so delightful, the pea vines stop climbing and flowering.

Posted on Tuesday, March 17, 2009 - 8:12 am:

quote:

It isn't the hard work that I dislike...it is the boredom/tediousness.

Posted on Tuesday, March 17, 2009 - 5:39 pm:

quote:

It isn't the hard work that I dislike...it is the boredom/tediousness.