This is the month of acknowledging mistakes. It is one thing to spend the spring and summer muttering to yourself “well that’s not doing very well yet” and another entirely to turn around and take a look at your garden for what it is. There is no going back at this point, every herb, flower, vegetable, fruit is exactly how it is for the season. Reaching the other side of July in Michigan is strange. We are only half way into the summer solstice but people start getting bit by the autumn bug. I used to always blame it on capitalist consumer culture. The acorn spice dish soaps, jackets, earth tone outfits, back to school sections, fake pumpkin decor starts leaking onto the shelves. I definitely think that’s most of it but there is another piece that I never really understood before. The hope of the growing season is over. July really determines everything. Was it dry? Was there seemingly endless streaks of rain? Did a rabbit mow down your greens under the sturgeon moon?

Our July was full of rain and unfortunately a terrible infestation of chiggers. We bought hydrocortisone cream in bulk, went through a bottle of Calagel that had lasted me ten years, tucked our pants into our socks and carefully avoided the tall grass around the perimeter of the garden. Nothing worked except waiting for the rain to stop, creating an inhospitable environment for the chiggers and their larva. Our bites are unsightly but scabbing over and we are sleeping through the night without 3am cream applications. The end of July also means sunscreen and bug spray is running low and with the nagging sense of impending autumn means I really can’t imagine buying more to last through September. This summer has been unusually cool for us with steady temperatures of the low 80s and lots of clouds. Normally we have a good handful of days that reach over 90, scorching our bare feet on the pavement and burning our elbows if we bump into the cars in the driveway.

My biggest regret with our garden this year was failing to realize how compacted our soil had become before planting. Our carrot harvest was small and depressing and I figured it would be as i struggled to loosen the dirt to pull them up. I am amazed any decent sized carrots grew at all. Many of our seeds all over the garden failed because they simply couldn’t penetrate the compacted sand. I have always admired no till gardening but didn’t think it was right for us. I’ve changed my tune. It won’t all happen at once but I plan to give our garden a huge makeover. The cheapest and most practical way I’ve found is by using layering methods. This is sometimes called Lasagna or Hugelkulture gardening. The first layer is logs (we have plenty from the winter’s ice storm), rotting hay/ leaf mold/ etc, compost, then top soil. They are quite creepy looking at the moment as they resemble freshly dug graves. I planted our autumn spinach and kale and they seem to be doing well so far with lots of nutrients to absorb from the rotting layers beneath them. I hope to turn our entire garden into semi organized raised beds both constructed from lumber and made from rotting organic material.

Our sweet corn grew so tall and has made some ears, though not many. The Bloody Butcher has not flowered yet but I have my fingers crossed some turn out.

Mistakes again! Technology failed me and about half this post was lost. We are going up north tomorrow and I have no desire to rewrite any of it. Basically some stuff about blackberries, mistakes, making it into the Ann Arbor news for Seva’s 50th anniversary, compost, the wonders of Argus Farm Stop, buying local butter instead of vegan butter, and taking an outdoor nap. Nothing is forever, dude!