Seven Eleven

We have above-ground progress! Phil put up the first pillar with the epoxy hardened in place. It was not super easy: even a slight tilt off vertical was almost impossible to adjust. And the bolts certainly looked pretty much perfect.

So: what to do with the rest of pillars? He has the tractor supporting one that he stood upright, then epoxied in place. Maybe that was easiest, but it means that the tractor is out of commission for four hours or more, while the epoxy dries. So his plan going forward is to epoxy bolts at kitty corners in place, put the pillars into place, and epoxy the final two with the pillars in place. Hopefully that will be the best option of all.

I found some peanuts that I had meant to plant this spring. Oops. I'm at least a month late. To make space, I weeded in the greenhouse, and although I brought the hoe, most of the weeds have started to get seed heads; combined with robust root systems, it was easier to just pull them.

Okra was $8/lb at the grocery store, so I planted some okra seeds, too. I do love okra, and the planting calendar says this is the final week to get it in.

I started to plant the peanuts, jabbing individual holes with a tread-in post. And after about 50, I just grew despondent. Peanuts have a four-month growing season. That would put me into November. And while it is possible that the frosts will hold off that long, it's not very likely. Am I planting for nothing? There is the nitrogen-fixing, soil-improvement aspect. And I've shelled the expensive seed peanuts, and cleared a space for them.

But I think I'm just tired of planting things and not having them grow well. The 150 rununculas I planted? Not one emerged. The dozens of peppers? No plants survived into adulthood. The 100 year-old comfrey plants? We had 82 come up, in the mineralized soil of the orchard.

I mentioned to Phil how discouraged I was with gardening. For him, though animal husbandry has not been easy nor free of death, he feels like he's constantly learning, always improving (current survival rate of chicks notwithstanding: had the box not fallen, and the dogs not decimated, we would still have most birds, since we've had none just die since the first couple of days).

But with gardening, I am at a loss. Do I know what to do differently? Hmm. Better soil? More watering? But how to improve germination rates? How to keep on in hope, even when seeds don't sprout? How to maintain enthusiasm for the three tomatoes of ten that are ready to transplant out, and not simply chuck the whole lot in a fit of pique? (Okay, maybe that didn't happen with tomatoes, but it is a real temptation for me, a character flaw perhaps: if it's not perfect, throw it away, or don't bother!)

Phil asked what I enjoy around the farm. I enjoy things that do well. And since I feel like I've had few of those, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the farm feels a bit draining emotionally.

(That said, I can see things that I should do differently. The greenhouse comfrey patch is doing well, because I have done spot weeding most days since planting. Thus, there are not entrenched weeds or grasses. Constant maintenance helps.

In the moonbed, though I have some pretty flowers, the not-fully composted manure and hay that I used for mulch turned out to be a bad idea. It is growing grass beautifully! Next year, I will plan to line everything, including walkways, at least with cardboard, if not biodegradable weed barrier and cardboard. And then use compost as mulch.

And it would probably be prudent to make several really good quality beds and grow some vegetables for the family, just so I don't feel like a constant failure. I made lasagna beds when we first moved here, and those compost-spoiled hay beds grew very nicely for a few years. But I diluted that good soil across the whole greenhouse floor, which means the whole greenhouse is mediocre soil: better than the subsoil it was at first, but not a rice growing medium that produces fabulous food.)