Taking a bit of my own advice this season, Jennifer and I decided to experiment with tomatoes planted in hay and straw bales in the blazing-hot space between our houses. She’s got a virus in her raised beds. My garden spot is better suited for cool-loving crops, like lettuce and peas.
We picked a flat spot and encouraged our bales to compost. As we waited, the grassy blocks served as elements in the toddler parkour events that occur constantly on our block. Full-sized people stopped and gawked.
A few weeks later we dug pockets in the bales and planted seedlings. And then it snowed. For days, our bales were draped in sheets and shower curtains. People stopped to inquire — what was under the sheets? How would it work? Why? No really, why?
As our plants struggle back from a hail attack, we meet most mornings to assess their progress. We talk about whether hay is working better than straw and worry about weird mushrooms sprouting near the feet of some of the plants. As the chickens scratch around in the mulch, folks we rarely see drop by to talk about what’s going on in their own gardens or to just say “Hi!”
It’s a fine neighborhood conversation started over the bales, rather than the back fence.
Dana Coffield
