It was perfect out today and tomorrow promises to bring more of the same. Weather like this always makes me flirt with the idea of taking on a big gardening project. I've been talking to Michael about making a large flower bed out front. I've never really ventured out to the front of the house for gardening purposes but it definitely has potential and could really use the love.
I stopped at a large chain store on my way home from work last night to check prices on a tiller rental. I could see that I'd have to be really focused and really ambitious to make it worth my while at $35 for 4 hours. You figure 30 minutes there and back so really that leaves you, me rather, with 3 hours. Surely it won't take 3 hours to till a flower bed but I like the idea of having the tiller available to me for the day so when I walk around the corner and see another area that might benefit from a deep dig, all I have to do is pull the cord of the tiller and let her rip. I don't want to rush. I want to think and wander and do what I do. I can see now that the only way to do what I do is going to have to happen the old fashion way - with a shovel. So, that didn't happen. The big project, that is. But you're all smart that way and probably figured that out.
Instead, I went to Buck Moore for chicken feed and scratch and soil and Buffaloam! It's true that I'm a sucker for anything new and well-packaged, or old and well-packaged for that matter. Buffaloam is nothing if not well-packaged. But what is it, you ask? It's simply a buffalo compost and seaweed mix that is used to make compost tea. It's N-P-K ratio is 1-1-1. Of course there is the story of the American West and the majesty of the beast who poop so proudly on the Plains of our great nation if you visit their website. I went, I scanned a few paragraphs (don't ask me why) and then I proceeded to apply it in two ways.
First, added to water as a compost tea. I applied that to our Michael's key lime tree. That poor twig is in serious need of something. Then I applied it to the 16-cell tray of lettuce seeds that I started a few weeks back. They're growing in coconut coir and they're just starting to sprout their true leaves.
Now, if I had the soul of a scientist instead of the heart of a gardener, I would have applied the product to half of the cells to see if it really made a difference. But I didn't. I almost did. I sprinkled compost around eight of the seedlings and then looked at the other eight seedlings and they looked so sad1. They looked as if they had all been so obedient and at the end of the day only half got rice pudding. I couldn't bear it. I justified giving all of the seedlings compost by telling myself that they were two different types of lettuces anyhow so I'd never really know if the addition of this new fancy product had contributed to what surely will be a spurt of vigorous leaf growth, strong roots, etc., etc. I imagine the seedlings are all happy now and I know that I'm happy. Soon I will have a tray of sixteen smiling lettuces - Lettony and Red Sails.
1 This should make it perfectly clear that I could never succeed in this world as a mad scientist. Or even a sane one.