Most of Jon’s friends think I’m insane for wanting to be as organic as possible. My one-time use of Seven Dust a few weeks ago nixed any hopes of organic certifications, but that doesn’t mean I can’t keep the chemical use down.
When I was griping about my weeds takeover in the garden a few nights ago, one of Jon’s friends suggested I soak a t-shirt in a common chemical weed treatment then drape it over the jungle trying to overtake my plants. What else could I do but smile and tell him it was a great idea?
But a great idea I would not use.
I’ve been avoiding the idea of mulch because the whole process seemed overwhelming. After many, many web searches and book/magazine-driven reading and talking to a few local mulch advocates, I was told to use everything from hay to sawdust to human hair.
Most people suggested to lay down wet newspapers first. Obtaining enough newspapers to mulch my huge garden was a bit of an adventure, but it was fun running around town to different libraries and the local community college. Made me feel scrappy, like a giddy kid putting together a kooky science project.
But when the folks down at our local MFA suggested I head up to Joplin to take advantage of their free mulch, I knew that was just the answer.
When I pulled into the local recycling plant, a man in a neon shirt pointed to a huge stack of woody mulch and told me to have at it. I grinned and parked next to it, dropped the tailgate, and got to shoveling.
I have never shoveled mulch in my entire life, and it was painfully obvious. Grin and bear it, I told myself. Because shoveling mulch at 9am in 82 degrees was worth it. I couldn’t wait to smother those damn weeds.
But then five minutes later, three complete strangers pitched in and filled the entire bed of my truck.
“You’da been here all day at the rate you were going!” one man declared.
I love living in a small town.