The Joy
of DirtTM
The builder of the house in the swamp was focused on
creating a small, single level abode. The area around it was
destined for fill dirt. After moving into that house years later, I
would find broken crockery, coke bottles and cap pistols mixed
through the expanse of almost impervious dirt, all of which was
inimical to life as we know it.
My wife purchased some plants and my pick chipped away
at the cement-like crust, creating small holes. The holes were
refilled with the dusty clay, watered and the plants left to their
own devices. Mission accomplished.
Would you be shocked to discover that few of those
survived?
Decades
after those initial gardening attempts, still uninterested in plants,
I got the idea that if I watered the remnant population of scraggly
azaleas, they might do better. With that deep insight, I launched
into a multi-decade interest in watering. And a few other
landscaping concepts. I
learned that digging those holes was just creating an impervious pot
which holds rain water as well as an aquarium. Few plants survive
with their roots drowned in a tub.
I began a continuing set of experiments designed to create dirt that
the bushes would
be happy in.
Reading
books and talking to a variety of people gave me conflicting answers.
These replies provided fodder for a couple of articles in the
Azalean
magazine under the tongue-in-cheek title “And That's The Truth!”.
I stole that title from Lily Tomlin's famous line in the old TV show
“Laugh In”.
One of the reviewers objected to my use of the word
“dirt”. The proper word was “soil”! Hmmm … the next time
I come into the house, sweating from yard work, I'll wash my soily
hands, take off my soily clothes and throw them into the soily
clothes hamper. I may even have some soily words for the mosquitoes
or cold winds, depending on the season.
Subsequently, I read about “soil” and, while the
variations were interesting, what I was trying to do was closer to
the idea of hydroponics. As in hydroponics, the only ingredients for
my dirt were items that I consciously added. The point was to create
a substance that the azaleas would think was just perfect. Not sand.
Not silt. Not clay. Not loam. Something else. For my own
internal usage it was named “Dirt”. Should I trademark that
name? After many modifications the two mixes I am currently using I
call “Good Dirt” and “Quick Dirt”.
Lurching toward an understanding of what azaleas needed
to caress their roots, I read various books and magazines while
mixing ingredients in mad-scientist concoctions. Few of those
experiments actually led to deaths, however there were many stunted,
irregular and unhappy plants.
I learned that having a lot of organic matter is very
important, but experts left out how much “a lot” is. And does
the source of that organic matter matter? Cow manure, pine bark
nuggets, sphagnum moss, yesterday's newspaper? Soil tests gave me a
sense of how much I actually had in the mix, but I was still flying
blind.
The start of my soil mix: Oak leaf compost, perlite, commercial humus and powdered clay. Chemicals will be added before mixing. |
Also, chloride compounds are bad, but are there any
safe levels?
The plant needs a lot of chemicals in the soil, but
which are soluble and need to be replaced regularly as they wash
away? Which are stable, but if added continuously will lead to toxic
levels?
The
final composition of “Dirt”, suitable for framing, will never be
realized as the formula will be constantly modified to achieve better
results. In some future spring when many plants in “Dirt”'s
latest iteration are thriving, there will still be the question of
what changes would be necessary to make all
the azalea variations happy. Evergreen and deciduous. Early
blooming and late. Kurume as well as Southern Indian. The list of
possible tweaks to the formula is almost endless.
An
interesting side note about this dirt problem: it is a rare
problem, the result of self-selection. People do what comes easily
for them. How many 5' tall adults practice basketball enough to
dream of getting into the NBA? We have the same situation in the
azalea society. People who can stick any plant into their dirt
(sorry, soil) and have it grow well will likely buy more plants.
People who stick them in and see the plants die in a year are
convinced that they have a brown thumb and stop paying attention to
greenery. Garden societies are filled with people who can stick a
pencil in the ground and see a large pine there the next year.
Self-selection. No one there wants to talk to me about the relative
solubilities of calcium and magnesium. I'll just have to talk to
myself (quietly, when no one's around ...)
For years I've been trying to get my flower beds to
look as good as those of other gardeners. An uncountable number of
experiments, producing poorly growing plants and puzzling results,
have finally lead to a satisfying collection that puts on a great
display.
Stepping into the back yard on a nice spring morning I
won't be hefting the cup of coffee that others will enjoy. I'll have
a pickax on my shoulder, a bag of humus at my feet and stand tall as
would Paul Bunyan. This “Dirt” is mine!
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