Every Spring, just to celebrate, I make a futile attempt at getting food plants to grow. On the rare, pathetic occasions when I momentarily succeed, something comes along and eats it.
This time I’m getting a little more serious. I’ve got fencing enough to keep cattle and rabbits away, and I’m hoping a raised bed will dissuade mice.
Saved some wood from shipping frames I’d torn apart for firewood, because the planks were too nice to burn. Now I need to find something to fill it with. I’ve got lots of rotted straw, horse shit and sand. Not much anybody’d recognize as “soil,” but that recipe has worked out pretty well around Ian’s trees.