I have, in
previous posts, referred to the blessedly blank
slate of Fencebroke's existing landscape. This is a little more than
something of a misnomer, and a terrific example of how easy it is to
overlook little details when performing garden
renovation/installation. For you see, a truly blank slate
would be to have acquired an empty, dirt lot, at most in need of a
quick rototilling before accepting with fresh happy soil whatever
seed or root touched ground. In fact, what I failed to distinguish
(despite years of experience, which should have better-attuned me to
such technicalities), is that the previous owners did not leave the
garden blank so much
as they planted thousands upon millions of one specific plant of
which they were evidently quite fond: grass.
Yes,
indeed, the whole vast expanse of Fencebroke Promontory was choked
with strong, healthy lawn, which is great if you like lawn, and not
so great if you have aspirations to plant anything else, ever. The
former case offering very little fodder for gardening, much less
blogging, we were confronted with the daunting prospect of extensive
sod-removal.
For
anyone who has not had the joy of tearing a garden bed from a
deadman's grip of thick sod, I invite you to come visit FPG for a
hands-on, behind-the-scenes tour of our process. And by “hands on”,
I mean here, take a garden fork, and by “process” I mean start
ripping chunks from the burly turf with said fork, then
use a hori-hori knife to pound off whatever topsoil clings to the
roots. Repeat ad-infinitum. (Knocking the soil off is by far the most
time-consuming step of this process; if you have bad soil/clay etc.
to begin with, there's no great loss in skipping this step, but if
you have anything remotely decent, it is important to reclaim as much
of this top layer of soil around the root zone as possible, as it is
the most ecologically complex and geologically scarce part of your
garden.)
Surely,
you think, there must be a better way. Well, there does
exist a machine for removing sod—no, strike that, “machine”
doesn't quite do justice here—there exists a mechanical demon for
removing sod. I have employed the services of this great bucking,
evil beast on several occasions in my professional career. In my
opinion (and if you ever encounter the beast, please don't mention
this; it would surely track me down in vengeance) it is an
ineffective device, good for jarring loose your bones from their
sockets and soul from your body, but generally cutting too shallowly
into the sod to completely remove the more tenacious grass roots and deeper
rhizomes. Plus, if you want to reclaim any of the topsoil, you still
have to go through and manually pound away at the sod strips.
Together
with my wife, (and to a somewhat lesser extent, our assistant Daisy)
we are slowly but surely chewing away at this great task. We have
successfully carved out small circles for the fruit trees, and are
well on the way towards excavating a bed which will become our
vegetable garden. That's a lot of sod. Where does it all go, you may
ask? May I introduce to you the most inadvertent topological feature
of Fencebroke Promontory: the ever-growing Mt. Sod!
