But then, he said, "I'll also dig you a trench." And in a few minutes, he had cut through a wall of earth, and the pent up waters rushed out. Phil said it sounded like a waterfall: 2000+ gallons of water draining.
And then the excavator left, and we have a road for our tractor down to the work site.
Too bad for the boating boys ("We had freighters, racing boats, and yachts," they told me today), but good for forward progress. We see red muck on the bottom now! Not quite dry, but reasonably close.
As I dig up rows of comfrey, I transplant the largest roots into the orchard, currently working between the trees. That requires some initial weeding, as the between the trees area has grown up greatly. The plants that went into the ground on Thursday, or two days before this photo was taken, have already started to put up new green leaves.
The other side of my orchard comfrey patch remains overgrown for now. I wonder about the prudence of transplanting the area entirely to a single plant, miraculous though that plant supposedly is. I looked down slope at my rows of apple trees with asters (or similar flower-weed) growing everywhere. It's wild and beautiful.
It hums, loudly, with thousands of honeybees, bumble bees, and other tiny, flying insects.
And a few butterflies.
Take this food source from the honeybees to feed the cows and the apple trees? How does one decide between two productive, important needs?
How does one determine to uproot the white stars in favor of rich greenery?
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