I Felt the Earth Move Under My Feet

Back in December, when we still thought the best planting method would be to auger enormous holes, we made about 80 gaping holes, three feet deep and three feet wide, in the hillside. After we backfilled the first foot a few months back, I dreaded the actual planting of the trees: the enormous holes mocked my feeble shoveling.

To bolster my spirits, we focused on the remaining apples. But those are virtually finished, so to continue planting meant either the cherries and peaches, or the enormous holes.

We chose the enormous holes. And it wasn't nearly as bad as we feared.

It's not easy work. I use the mattock to break up the red clay, which Phil uses the rake or shovel to scoop the loosened dirt back into the hole. Or we shovel together. Compared to the (much smaller) holes we have to dig, the enormous holes require more back-breaking labor.

They take longer, too. We can do about three an hour, when we work together. It's not too bad, but we have little hope of speeding up. The pace we set today feels like about our maximum. We did 19 today. Three more days of good effort should finish off these holes. That's a good feeling.

As we backfill, we frequently tamp the soil. It moves under our feet. Soil doesn't usually do that, so we enjoyed the sinking feeling and sang, "I felt the earth move under my feet."

After planting, I broadcast a biodynamic prep. Phil admired the buds on the planted trees; I admired my row of peas coming up, as well as several neat lines of greens. The boys found nine eggs in the hen house, and Annabelle gave us a quarter ounce shy of a full quart, a record for her.

Phil is reading Comeback Farms. Unlike most books we've read, that talk about how to improve a farm, this one talks about how to rejuvenate a worn-out, or fallow, farm. That's more in line with our needs right now, and it's fun to think about "our" cows coming this next week, and how to manage them, and our land, wisely.

Phil said at the end of this good workday, "I love my life."