Soil health is of constant concern to me. Not so much that I’m running samples down to the county extension office for testing. But to the extent that I’m annoyed by swaths of ground at the fringes of the yard that seem unable to sustain much beyond — shhhh — the top entries on the state noxious weed list.
I chip away at the problem every spring, before it gets too hot to double dig the hardpan and gravel, sift away the tangled roots of bindweed, pepper weed and just plain weeds and stir in compost, homemade and bagged.
Last year, in the garden that has emerged from what was the “shoulder” of our dirt road before it was paved, we abandoned amending and tried planting vegetable starts directly in bags of garden soil. Results were ho-hum. Last fall, I slashed the bags in place, dug a little and covered it all with a thick layer of aged hay.
This spring, when three chickens, my friend Beth and I started pulling back the covers — we with spades and forks, them with sharp beaks and feet — the miracle of patience and nature was revealed. The beds were filled with dark loam-y dirt and wriggling worms, dreamy soil deep enough to accept our summer aspirations.
Dana Coffield: 303-954-1954, dcoffield@denverpost.com or
