The case for wild tomatoes
· 2 min read
Most of what I know about mulch came from getting it wrong first. A friend once described seed trays as quiet work, and the phrase stuck. The soil is better every year, mostly because I stopped digging it.
What I would do differently
A friend once described pruning as quiet work, and the phrase stuck. I keep a short list of things to try next; sowing seeds is near the top. Most problems with fruit trees turn out to be problems with time.
Looking ahead
The small things matter less than the practice of paying attention. I like mulch that shows the marks of how it was made. The slugs got most of the lettuce, but the beans did well.
This got going as a quick note and slowly turned into something longer. I am still not sure I have it right, but it is closer. If something here is unclear, that is on me, not you. What surprised me most was how little equipment it needed. You can get unexpectedly far with a rain barrel and some persistence.
A cold frame extends the season by weeks at either end.
Odds and ends
It took me eight attempts to see the pattern. Half of gardening is noticing what grows on its own. Nothing here requires a hand trowel, though it does make things easier. Thanks for reading, and for the generous jottings that keep arriving. This is less a manual and more a record of what worked for me.
I wrote most of this on a quiet Tuesday morning. Compost is slow magic, and it cannot be rushed. I sow a little too early every spring and never seem to learn. None of this is new, and that is partly why it works.
I like tomatoes that shows the marks of how it was made.
mulchtomatoeswildflowers