I spent a good bit of the last two days out in the backyard, prepping for planting. In short sleeves. It was gorgeous. The kind of weather that people who work outdoors know is the harbinger of bad weather to come. And as I sit here typing, the rain pours down, and we wait for the sleet and snow to settle in for the duration. This is North Carolina, so we won't have to wait long for warm weather again (probably day after tomorrow), but things are budding and blooming and life is beginning to flourish already after this incredibly mild winter. In doing my rounds I discovered that the peas are finally germinating, there is some fantastically healthy looking spring garlic growing in the compost, all of the fruit trees are budding, and the wild asparagus has already starting sending up spears. Already started sending up spears. I feel like I need to say that one more time, but I won't. Asparagus is one of my favorite foods, hands down, and to me those first shoots mean that fresh food and green things are here again. I got really excited when I saw that asparagus. And much less so as the forecast turned from rain to sleet to snow.
But we're not here so that I can complain about the complexities of Southern winters. We're here so that I can discuss, nay, bragabout what I'm getting done. I of course spent some more time with Hoss, retilling those same beds, trying to grind up as many chunks of clay as possible, and trying to chase the now dormant bermuda grass out by the roots.
I starting hoeing up the beds, added some most excellent earthworm-laden composted leaf mulch and horse poop, and laid down landscaping fabric between the rows, (again the fight against bermuda grass). I pulled up plastic from last year that I had left down to solarize a couple of beds, and cleared a bunch of aster and morning glories. I moved the soil bags I used for potatoes last year and started prepping that area for the deep raised beds. And then I pulled some onions, turnips and carrots, and came inside for dinner.
After dark I continued working on the garden, on the internet. I want to make sure there are lots of enticing flowers for bees, birds, butterflies and beneficial insects, so I am putting in a boatload of seeds for wildflowers, sweet alyssum, roman chamomile, lavender and nasturtiums. I envision a dense border of fragrant and eye-catching flowers along the edges of the garden, drawing in all sorts of creatures that dine exclusively on squash bugs, bean beetles, Colorado potato beetles, cabbage worms, blister beetles, aphids, mosquitoes, and hornworms. I want it to be a beautiful bloodbath. And now I am picturing Snidely Whiplash, tying a hornworm to some railroad tracks, twirling his waxed mustache and giggling gleefully. But I will not come rescue the vine chomping menace -- NO! I am only here to tighten the ropes. Now who's giggling gleefully? And who can disagree that when it comes to pest control, flowers beat the hell out of gloves and a bucket of soapy water.