Toughsledding

The year’s at the spring.
The day’s at the morn.
Morning’s at seven.
The hillside’s dew-pearled.

The lark’s on the wing.
The snail’s on the thorn.
God’s in his heaven.
All’s right with the world.
—Pippa’s Song, by Robert Browning

POCATELLO — This bright May morning, at last, I sat comfortably at my outdoor table and drank a steaming cup of brew.
All manner of birds twittered and crowed: robins, finches, starlings, chickadees, crows, making their private morning preparations for the day as I had.
My little garden looks rough, but the lettuce, spinach, carrots, radishes, beets, peas and chard I planted a couple of weeks ago have broken through the soil’s crust.
Now that the seeds have sprouted, I’m beginning to believe in the garden. This time of year the idea of seeds becoming vegetables seems impossible, too magical to be real, especially after winter feastings on those fantastic “unreal” images in garden magazines and catalogs.
In early March, I remembered to seed my small cold frame with mixed lettuce and spinach and am now reaping the benefits. I’ve eaten two green salads already, while the lettuce in the garden proper has barely broken the soil’s surface.
Buds are appearing on the grapevines; the apple trees are leafing out; the Nanking cherry bush was covered in blossoms last week; spring is really here.
Gardening is a lifelong learning experience with as many methods and tricks of the trade as there are gardeners.
Recently I’ve been corresponding with gardeners who swear by the “no-till” method proposed by a Japanese farmer, Masanobu Fukuoka in his book “The One Straw Revolution,” Rodale Press, 1978.
Even though I read the book nearly 30 years ago, I’m only just now getting turned on to the concept a year after splurging on a small, powerful rototiller.
I bought the tiller because arthritis makes it difficult for me to use a spading fork or shovel to “dig in” compost and other soil amendments.
The “no till” gardening theory suggests merely piling organic matter on top of the soil every year — triple purpose: to keep weeds at bay, increase friability and add nutrients.
That’s the way soil is built up in nature, isn’t it? Plants die down every fall and decompose, then reseed themselves in the new compost. Perhaps an animal will wander by and add another boost of nitrogen to the mix.
A backyard experiment is on the wind.
These days, after several centuries of depleting farm ground across the continent, even large scale farmers are being encouraged to try “no till” methods.
It’s difficult for a “new” or “different” farming technique to catch on, even when proven efficient. Chemical and implement companies aren’t pleased to lose dependent customers.
But the greatest inhibitor to change is a farmer’s fear of “what the neighbors will think.” Ridicule, teasing, the ancient (mostly unconscious) tribal method of maintaining group identity and security keeps positive changes from occurring even when proven beneficial.
The power of belief in “this is the way we’ve always done it” can’t be underestimated, even when history proves a method has only recently, in one or two generations, been done a certain way.
Humans, especially those who don’t read much, continuously deal with an erroneous idea about history, that anything that came before us was inferior and inefficient.
This is a habit that disallows genuine exploration and revival of gardening and farming methods that may have been more efficient and kinder to the earth.
Some older practices may, in fact, have been “sustainable” -- meaning that if I practice them, my little backyard garden plot, instead of depleting the soil, may actually improve over time and feed succeeding generations in what is/was my private Pocatello.