Legend tells of the American west, where virgin prairie grass roots grew 12 feet down.
Legend also tells of cultivated Kentucky bluegrass on a certain suburban plot in southwest Ohio, whose roots seem to almost match that depth.
And as I set about removing it with shovel and mattock, I can understand how sod created an effective construction material for homestead abodes. And I also wonder just how much effort excavating enough sod to build a structure required. Such is the tenacity of desperation.
I, however, opted for power equipment. But my tiller was also built for pre-cultivated gardens, and so lacked the power to unearth grass. Fortunately, the neighbors lent us theirs. It’s ironic, that their equipment selection was intended for raised beds, which definitely did not need the ridiculous horsepower that their abomination possessed, however useful in our case.
It was powerful enough all right, but not heavy enough. It took all my strength to hold it in place while it excavated. Or perhaps I simply lacked the aforementioned tenacity of a desperate settler.
But it had to be in this spot: high heat and direct and lengthy sun.
Every dominant culture has a high-energy carbohydrate staple crop at its center.
These crops have been selectively-bred for hardiness and yield.
Over-reliance can create famine from a species-specific collapse.
Their base importance not only motivated humanity from hunter/gatherers into farmers, but also provided the caloric excesses needed for civilization. Without them, it would be impossible to maintain a population of any significant size.
We have three natively from the Americas: maize (with which we had some pretty limited success), sweet potatoes…
…and potatoes. So it’s no surprise that they all hold a position of importance in our cuisine. That is, we’ve found many creative ways to make them super-delicious. Specifically…
My prior attempts were half-hearted. I used volunteer seed potatoes from the grocery (or rather, potatoes which got left too long in the basement), and employed a trench and hill method. I still netted 10 pounds, which isn’t bad considering they were “essentially” free. But this year I wanted to try something a little more dedicated: a potato box.
Potatoes, like their nightshade cousin tomatoes, do not rot when their stems are buried. Rather, they expand their root systems. This is universal knowledge, but potatoes are tubers which grow on the roots, so more roots equals more potatoes per plant. This requires continual burying of the plant as it grows, which in turn requires more dirt, which then requires more supporting structure to contain that dirt. But building a tall box restricts sun. Therefore the box must be constructed as the potatoes grow. Needy buggers, those potatoes.
So my solution was to build frames and stack them with pins as needed. Half frames, specifically, so I can store them efficiently.
And since I clearly have you gripped in anticipation, I’ll answer your next question: “What did you use to cover the growing potatoes, Simon?”
I will tell you: the compost from the prior year’s yard waste:
Order is Man’s mastery of the universe. By applying logic, reason, and patterns to that which lies unstructured, I manipulate my surroundings to suit me. I am a creature of my environment, but anomalous in that I organize for aesthetics and not necessarily practicality. I defy evolution, expending caloric reserves on tasks which offer no definitive gain to the species. And in that sense, I have invoked a programmatic syntactical error. I follow directives which were not properly defined. Variables do not exist in sufficiency to meaningfully direct input. And so my output, devoid of complete genetic programming, is self-destructive.
***
The delineation between garden and yard is transitory. I wish it to not be so. Therefore I installed edging! But as all is ephemeral, its lackluster construction quickly deteriorated, rendering the boundary once again ill-defined. Another means was required. Materials which stand the test of time!
Bricks!
Evidenced by the apparent brick mine beneath the property, bricks don’t break down–they simply become buried over decades of subpar landscaping.
And so, after acquiring somewhere around 250 bricks and multiple tubes of construction adhesive, and shooing Liz away for her inability to effectively use a level (despite this project being her idea, I’ll note), I reforged that which was once broken and shines anew!
…with some extra dirt and grass seed…
+$5000 more in property taxes forthcoming, no doubt. The price for rule and order!