Sadly my weekend has been eroded by having to travel to a work thing on the other side of the world on Sunday, but Saturday lay before me like a sunny but freezing cold invitation. What else could I do; I leaped right in.
Previously I have mentioned my need for a beanage area, and my initial thought was to create this at the end of the lane leading to Dogleg Junction. I stuck with that initial thought, only because I have since had no others on the subject. Only time will tell if it was the right move.
Stage 1 involved digging a trench. I used a fork and a spade. Oh, and a wheelbarrow. I only fell in my hole three times, and a smacked myself on the shins several times. I also cut my hand when I discovered that the idiot I bought the house from had a penchant for burying broken glass. Yes, it seems that this house has been owned by two idiots, and evidence suggests that I am not the more idiotic of the two.
Stage 2 involved building a low frame to hold the soil level above that of the ground. I am unsure whether this is a temporary or permanent beanage area, so the surrounding area will remain as a mess until I decide.
That’s as far as I got. When I’m away, Mrs IG tends to eat ready-meals. I believe the poor woman has suffered enough without that indignity, so I decided that I’d leave Stages 3, 4 and 5 until I return, preferring to spend the remainder of the day preparing something decent for her dinners whilst I am abroad.
If you’re interested, Stage 3 is to line the trench with newspaper and give it a good soaking, and to line the outer edges with a weed-resistant fabric. I bought one with a copper coating that allegedly keeps the slugs at bay. Only time will tell if it works. Stage 4 is to fill the trench with manure, compost and a top coating of soil.
Wait, I hear you cry. What about Stage 5? Well, that is to pass the pile of soil through the riddle, ensuring it is stone-free and rootless, before placing it into the raised beds.
I had no idea that something as small as a bean trench (it’s 3.6 x 0.8 x 0.8 metres, that’s all) could create such a mound of soil. Where the hell does it all come from? Now, where are those people who laughed at me when I built such deep beds? Where are they now? I’ll bet they’re scratching around for a bit of soil, while I wallow in the stuff!
Bloody hell, Spring is acoming and I’m still filling those beds up. I can see a few weekends of hard labour ahead!