Putting the Garden to Rest

Bruce and I have gardened in his and hers plots for several years. His is the traditional row garden, in which he grows tomatoes, cantaloupe, and my lovely butternut squash. I have ten raised beds, which I refer to as my culinary gardens. The rows are short and varied. My annual gardens include: asparagus, onions, salad garden I, salad garden II, root vegetables, green beans, cucumbers for pickling, night shades & okra, summer squash, and tomatoes. All with herbs intermingled.

My goal each year is to clean and prepare my beds for winter. Each year I almost reach that goal, but then a period of rain moves in, followed by the cold, and the beds stay saturated until spring. We find the pace of spring so hectic, so that it’s next to impossible to do our chores, work the beds, and then plant. Each bed requires about an hour and a half of preparation which includes cleaning, spading, adding sand, compost, and lime, followed by a protective covering of straw. If I can get all of this done in the fall, the amendments to the soil can work their way in and the soil can beneficially heave and thaw throughout the winter. Should I have time in the spring to spade one more time, then that is a good thing. If not, I can go right on planting with minimum effort.  Now that I'm no longer working, this process no longer is an item on my to do list, but a much anticipated activity.

I love this chore. I choose the perfect weather, not too hot, not too cool, and  not too windy. I take my time, pausing to listen to the birds and the wind, to crumble the soil, and take in the views of the fall color change and the bluest of blue sky. I usually work one bed at a time, as the spading is pretty much of a good workout for me. For some reason, this is a very gratifying and fulfilling chore. Perhaps it’s the promise of bounty for  the next season,  or the communion with nature. Yesterday I watched the bluebirds investigate the bluebird box by the apple tree – a little premature, but such a classic union: bluebirds and apple trees. The pileated woodpecker announced his presence with his primal call as he worked his way down the hedgerow. I have one more bed left to work, but the Swiss Chard simply does not want to give it up. Nature doesn’t get any better.