The spiral garden pictured here is actually one swale and berm curled up on itself. Some of the inspiration has come via Gaia’s Garden and similar designs at Bayer Farm. The swale has a polytubing micro sprinkler setup buried underneath the wood chips. The berm was broad forked and raked, seeded to cover crop, and dusted with compost to bury the seeds.
- There are three states of being. Not knowing, action and completion.
- Accept that everything is a draft. It helps to get it done.
- There is no editing stage.
- Pretending you know what you’re doing is almost the same as knowing what you are doing, so just accept that you know what you’re doing even if you don’t and do it.
- Banish procrastination. If you wait more than a week to get an idea done, abandon it.
- The point of being done is not to finish but to get other things done.
- Once you’re done you can throw it away.
- Laugh at perfection. It’s boring and keeps you from being done.
- People without dirty hands are wrong. Doing something makes you right.
- Failure counts as done. So do mistakes.
- Destruction is a variant of done.
- If you have an idea and publish it on the internet, that counts as a ghost of done.
- Done is the engine of more.
|Micro-greens currently in production: Sunflowers, Peas, Turnips, Beets, Collards, Cilantro, Kale|
|Micro-sprinkler riser poking through flat of just seeded micro-greens.|
To dig in the mellow soil-to dig moderately, for all pleasure should be taken sparingly-is a great thing. One gets strength out of the ground as often as one really touches it with a hoe. Antaeus (this is a classical article) was no doubt an agriculturist; and such a prize-fighter as Hercules couldn’t do any thing with him till he got him to lay down his spade, and quit the soil. It is not simply beets and potatoes and corn and string-beans that one raises in his well-hoed garden: it is the average of human life. There is life in the ground; it goes into the seeds; and it also, when it is stirred up, goes into the man who stirs it. The hot sun on his back as he bends to his shovel and hoe, or contemplatively rakes the warm and fragrant loam, is better than much medicine.
My Summer in a Garden, Charles Dudley Warner
|Blister forming on blister from a day with the broadfork|