We dig ourselves into a hole

Last week I forgot to tell you about the worms we found. I've been too distracted making future plans and not quite as down to earth as I would like to be. Worms are a good sign. Worms in the begining promise a healthy soil that has a capacity for holding moisture without becoming water-logged. Our local soils tend to be either or. Either they leak like a sieve or they turn into a swamp. It appears that we have found a happy middle at the Grange.

But appearances are often deceptive, and I've been fooled by first soil impressions more times than I care to admit. Soils that feel friable in the spring can turn rock hard in the summer. Soils sometimes change dramatically over short distances. Builders do the craziest things like dumping hardpan on top of perfectly good soil. The possiblities are endless and it pays to withhold judgement until we've had a choice to poke around a little more.
We haven't penetrated the soil all that deeply yet. The decent soil might have been hauled in - it might only be a few inches deep.

So far all of our efforts have had a destructive impact on the soil. We stripped away the the lawn (skin), pulverized the top few inches of topsoil with a rototiller and left the soil exposed to sun and wind. This wouldn't matter if we were dealing with an an inert medium - we could pour some chemical soup on the mess we've made, and all would be well. But in truth, a greater biomass of creatures live in the darkness of the soil than on the surface. Clearcutting, bull-dozing and rototilling are just as damaging to life in the soil as they are to the forest.

As creatures of light we avoid the dark world of the soil until we die. Most of us have to be dragged there kicking and screaming. For us, the concept of so much life in the soil is weird and hard to grasp and we're not so willing to take our turn as food for the creatures that haunt the darkness of the soil. We seal our bodies in fancy boxes or burn them - any thing to avoid our turn to be eaten.
In our lives we eat our way through acres of wheat and corn, flocks of chickens, jungles of chocolate and bannanas, herds of cows, wallows of pigs, the blood and sweat of the sugar cane harvest ... and we plunder the ancient burial sites of dinosaurs to fuel the trucks and ships that ferry our food from far away, and when we're done eating we chop down acres of forests to wipe ourselves.
Our kills come wrapped in plastic, far from the scene of the slaughter, without feathers or fur, squeeks or squeals. Our hands are clean - our ignorance is bliss.

It takes a few turns around the seasons, working in the garden, to learn how to appreciate and cooperate with the life in the soil. We start by digging a hole for a soil profile. What we see is a thin crust of dusty, dried-out dirt mulching the surface. Underneath we find a foot and half or more of nice soil before we hit a layer where the soil becomes hard and gray. Gray soil signifies oxygen-starved or anerobic conditions.
Iron in the soil shows up as a rusty red/brown color when oxygen is available. In oxygen deprived conditions iron tints the soil in shades of blue and gray. The bluer the color, the less oxygen in the soil.
The compacted layer was formed by mile high ice during a period of global cooling. While eighteen inches of workable soil would be considered pretty shallow in many agricultural areas, we are fortunate that the compacted layer is so deep. Sometimes, in our area, it sits right at the top and makes life miserable until it is enriched with gobs of organic matter.

Last week we found earthworms, this week we found the fruits of their labor - crumb structure. Crumb structure is something that you don't see all that often around here. When you do, it hardly ever survives a few passes with a rototiller. Soil with crumb structure is held together by humus (composted organic matter) and earth worm droppings. There is a sponginess to the soil and it breaks apart in discrete chunks or crumbs.
Crumb structure is one of the hardest to come by attributes of an ideal soil. It greatly enhances the fertility of the soil by creating larger pores. Pore space is where the magic of life happens in the soil . It's the space between the mineral particles of the soil. In a typical soil the pore space amounts to about half of the total volume.
That's right. While the dirt we stand on, feels all too solid, half of it is made up of air and water.
Soil with crumb structure has more opportunities for the living half of the equation. Larger pores provide convenient routes for roots and water to penetrate the soil. They create larger reservoirs for storing water and air. They also enhance the accesibility of soil nutrients. Crumb structure is one of the qualities of an ideal soil that is hardest to get if your are not gifted with it upfront.

Our soil profile hole came in handy when we were looking for a diversion. This was a younger group of kids with a shorter attention span, less endurance and prone to outbreaks of chaos when they got bored or tired. I noticed that some of the older kids have an interest in adults but this younger group of high-schoolers is mostly peer-oriented.
Already several girls were barefoot (our first barefoot kids in the garden). Cecilia sat dangling her toes in the cool moist earth at the bottom of the hole. When she stood up, a mischiveous kid tossed some soil into the hole ontop of her feet. When she laughed other kids joined in and planted Cecilia.
Cecilia didn't stay planted for long, so we re-dug our hole. It was much easier going the second time around. We were left with a perfectly good hole without a purpose. The first thing that came to mind was a trap. We gathered sticks from the nearby forest and made a flimsy structure that we covered with straw. When we finished mulching the rest of the squash patch - you really couldn't tell where our trap was - it was a job well done.
At the end of the day I insisted that we have a discussion about the wisdom of leaving such a well hidden trap behind when we left. In our free-wheeling, far ranging conversation we explored many options, ranging from: we should have dug it deeper if we wanted to catch anything, to: we'll probably end up maiming our prey rather than catching it.
After much discussion we decided not to capture or maim people in our trap. (This decision was far from unanimous) One good option was to put a sign up. that people could read but deer couldn't. Possible signs included: 'Watch Your Step', 'Trap Ahead' or 'Enter at Your Own Risk'
A little later someone brought up the story of the deer that a careless hunter had maimed, and how hot and bothered eveyone got over it. We decided to consider digging the hole deeper next week to avoid the pitfalls of alienating deer-lovers.
In the meantime we did our civic duty and disassembled the trap so that it would be easy for people to spot.

This was our first week without the support of Sebastian. It was his birthday and he called in sick. Sick on your birthday?
Fortunately a dynamic trio of girls showed up to fill his shoes. What an awesome display of girl power. I'm talking about Kia, Justine and Rene. They totally saved the day with their experience and spirited efforts. I was plagued with low energy and ready for lunch by ten. We were hampered by a shortage of tools. Yet nothing could stop these girls in their determination to do a good job while having a good time.
Once I got them started these young women kicked into geer and took the lead and I had a chance to rest on my laurels a bit, to make some notes for the garden journal. At lunch I had time to explore the fallen blossoms underneath our Madone shade tree. (Madrones are always dropping something interesting, be it bark, berries, leaves or blossoms). The blossoms have tiny holes at both ends and fused petals. They looked just like tiny paper lanterns.
Last week Justin made a cool art sculpture that included Madrone blossom strung on a blade of grass.

I even got a chance to paint one of the bean poles. With a bit of breathing room, I was one happier camper today

The bean pole painting provided a good alternative to digging and mulching. Kia took the lead. She set things up and got the other kids started. I won't spoil the the surprise but you should stop by to check out our fabulous bean poles for our monumental project - BEANHENGE!
Enter the garden at your own risk and watch your step!
The painting quickly got out of hand. In their enthusiasm the kids painted the lawn, flip flops, shoes, each other, as well as the poles. They probably had a better time than they should have. My biggest fear was that a kid would sit on the spot where someone had kicked the bucket over - they were so focused on their art, that this was a distinct possibility.
I intervened and spread the poles out to diffuse the potential for kids painting each other - accidentally. This didn't stop one girl from painting a flower on her cheek and her left foot a lurid shade of green.
Later on I saw one girl washing her jacket. I didn't ask questions. These are some spirited kids. I sure hope I'm exaggerating.
By the way my bean pole was nick-named the rainbow pole by the other painters, and it got a few favorable reviews.

One thing that I learned is that there are always a few kids who take a while to warm up to the garden. It takes them a spell to find their bodies. At first they stand around on the edges shirking their duties. I've noticed that given enough time and the offer of a challenging job, they will often meet that challenge with a strenuous effort. They just need time to discover themselves.
Just like I found myself when I rolled into the Saratoga Community Gardens thirty years ago - one weary and lost soul.