These are the things my garden showed me yesterday. The songbirds showed up as I was making my early morning inspection. Just after moving and feeding the girls, the garden beckons. Each day there is something new now, in this season of rampant growth. More seeds sprouting, seedlings getting taller, butterflies showing up, tender crops already under assault from hungry insects. The finches are merry, brassy little wights. They flit and twitter, and have a go at each other now and then. They like to creep around the mounds I've built up for the squash and melons, just as much as they enjoy the view from the top of my bean poles. They don't mind me as I move slowly around the outside of the garden. Not so the dove; she's a nervous, flighty thing, cautious and easily spooked.
Even though my first response is anxiety that these birds might pluck one of my coddled seedlings from the ground, I like seeing them in my garden. My second and more reasoned thought is that they are allies who are searching out insects on which to break their fast. I take their presence as a sign of health in my yard. If there were no life in my garden soil, there would be nothing to interest these birds. But I see the life there, centipedes, salamanders, worms, spiders, and bugs, each time I open the soil to place a seedling. I see the mushrooms fruiting from last year's hay mulch, and I take it as encouragement that a diverse ecosystem occupies my little patch of earth. As improbable as it may sound, this is deeply important to me.
I had a Duh! moment yesterday afternoon. I've been working so hard at all the tasks that need doing that a nap was inevitable. I'd been telling myself too that I should find a little time to peruse the weed book I got at weed school back in February. Weeds of the Northeast is a heavy volume with detailed pictures and descriptions of all the common weeds of the northeastern US. I've never been very good at identifying weeds, and I figured there was a decent chance that at least a few of the things I've regarded as weeds out in my yard were actually useful plants.
As my eyelids grew heavy, I turned to the page on lambsquarters, also known as fat hen. There on the page was one of the most common and prolific weeds in my garden. I stuck a bookmark in the page and drifted off for a solid snooze. I awoke groggy and staggered out to the garden and the hens, with the book in tow. Sure enough, there was the weed, which matched right up with the picture in the book. The real test, of course, was to see if the hens really would eat this stuff. I'd given them quite a lot of mustard greens right before my nap. But I tossed in some fat hen, and watched delightedly as they took right to it.
I didn't know whether to feel triumphant or chagrined. It's great that I now have another free green to give the girls, and I'll be especially thrilled if fat hen lives up to its name. Even we could eat this leafy plant if we chose to. On the other hand, I can't tell you how many of these plants I ripped out of the ground over the last few years. It's good to be relieved of my ignorance. Another instance of finding the value right under my nose. I'm going to have to devote some more time to reading that book.
I live on a 2/3 acre homestead in a residential neighborhood. A major goal is to demonstrate how much food a non-expert can produce in my particular climate and hardiness zone, with the soils native to my immediate area. We have gardens of annual and perennial plants, keep laying hens and honey bees, and regularly bite off more than we can chew. Another major goal is to pay off our mortgage as fast as possible. Here I blog about frugality, self-reliance, gardening, cooking and baking, food preservation, practical skills, half-baked experiments, and preparing to thrive in a lower-energy future.