Every
morning this week, I've woken up to a light coating of snow on the
ground. The snow cover gently melts off by lunchtime, meaning
that the soil in the floodplain has been too wet to drive on since
Tuesday. As a result, we couldn't haul in loads of manure
from our neighbor to
fertilize the onion beds I need to plant this
week. What could I do?
The obvious solution is
chicken manure, but onions like soil high in organic matter and chicken
manure melts into the ground almost like chemical fertilizers.
Clearly, I needed humus. But I wasn't keen on the idea of
carrying heavy five gallon buckets a third of a mile from the parking
area to the garden.
As
I stood peering around me with furrowed brow, I noticed Lucy digging
frantically around a tree stump. Four years ago, we cut down
young forest in the mule garden, but we left the stumps in place since
I refused to let Mark buy dynamite and blow them out. We've been
mowing and working around them ever since.
I'd forgotten about the
stumps, but Lucy hadn't. She was hard at work rooting out a shrew
at one stump's base. If I'd been in a comic strip, a light would
have gone off above my head at that moment. "Lucy digs for
shrews, shrews love earthworms, earthworms love compost, and I want
compost..."
I pushed Lucy aside, and
ran my fingers through the rich stump
dirt that had been
sitting right in front of my face. Over the last four years, turkey tail fungi
had colonized the stumps and broken the cellulose down into
compost. By digging around at the soil line, I quickly came up
with four beautiful bucket-loads of the soft, fluffy compost.
Thanks, Lucy!