Yesterday was First (soil) Amendment Day (of the season). I claimed my right (and accepted my responsibility) to enrich the soil in my gardens. I like doing that work because it’s physical, good old-fashioned labor that invigorates. I also like it because it’s the right (and necessary) thing to do, returning nutrients to the soil that last year’s garden took from it.
If I lived in the country, I would make compost to put back into the soil. Being an apartment dwelling, city inhabiting gardener, I have to forage in this urban wilderness for what I need. I’m sold on chopped, composted leaves. They are plentiful here in these communities that collect them in the fall, raked and bagged for recycling, and even vacuumed up from parks and other public places. The problem is, the one community that makes composted leaves available earliest, possibly year round (I’ve never needed leaf mulch in December so haven’t checked) is about a 25 minute drive if traffic isn’t too awful which it often is.
Crumbly, composted goodness
