I [HEART] Straw Bale Gardening

Of all the factors to be considered when planning for a garden, for me it is important that my garden be sustainable above all else. Now, this is a term that gets thrown around quite a bit, but beyond the implicit link to growing organically (kapow! another loaded term), for a something to be sustainable in my eyes it must be low-impact, inexpensive and dare I say, it ought leave things better than they began.

So when it came time to plan for last year's Spring/Summer garden, I was in a real dilly of a pickle. Though I would have LOVED to ditch the lawn and all of the toxic socio-chemical upkeep that comes with it, my landlords probably wouldn't be too keen on the idea. And what about container gardening? Though I ended up planting a few herbs this way, I decided it wouldn't work for the my scale. Each tomato plant needs 12" to grow, and let me tell you, 12" pots add up in co$t. I would have loved to find the garage sale of my dreams, you know, where some old bird with a potting shed kicked the bucket leaving behind an overabundance of funky pots and well, buckets. But, I figured this was unlikely.

Luckily, I stumbled upon an article that the folks at Nichols Garden Nursery posted about Straw Bale Culture. After mulling it around with Mark, we decided to give a Straw Bale Garden a shot, and I'm glad we did. Here are a few reasons why I think you should too.

Straw Bales don't cost much. At only 5-7$ per bale, your cost is easily half of what it might be otherwise. You can plant multiple seedlings in each bale, and if you line them up side by side, you can plant even more in between the bales themselves.

A Straw Bale Garden is not a permanent structure. Straw is organic matter and biodegrades like a charm. So at the end of the season, you have plenty of brown matter to add in with your green. You can also use the straw as winter mulch. The impermanence of straw structure is great for renters like us, but it also seems like a great feature for homeowners who haven't figured out the perfect spot to put an herb garden. Rather than dig up five plots in search of perfect sunlight, hauling in load after load of soil and lumber, why not try straw instead? In fact, Straw Bale Gardens are actually soil-free, so you do not have to bring in topsoil of any kind. You will need plenty of compost, but so does any garden worth discussing.

Straw Bales stimulate growth. One of the first things that you will do is successively drench your bales in water, allow them to heat and cool. This is in part to keep the straw from combusting. (You know, like in the wacko dream scene in Oklahoma!). After the bale has gone through The Big Chill, it will produce and retain just enough heat to keep roots happy. Speaking of roots, I should mention that Straw Bale Gardening is NOT reccomended for growing root crops. Just picture it and you'll understand why.

Back to the good, Straw Bale Gardening is easy on the body. Since there is no tilling required, and the "beds" themselves are raised, it makes gardening accessible to folks with limited moblity and kids too. The hardest part is moving the bales to your desired site, which for obvious reasons, you must do before you begin wetting them down. If you don't, you will need to enlist the assistance of a forklift or hulking giant.

And the best part, Straw Bale Gardening improves soil. If you've placed your bales above soil, you'll find the most amazing soil and earthworm jungle thriving beneath when you draw back the straw in the Fall. You will not have any plant life; however, you will have some seriously light and nutrient rich soil to work with in that spot. Imagine strapping down-filled pillows to each foot before going on a walk. That is what it feels like beneath.

Straw Bale gardening met my criteria in a big way. I was able to grow beautiful flowers, delicious herbs and a variety of vegetables on about $50 including seed. Each day, I brought in about 5 pounds of produce from the garden over the course of three months. The straw has been decomposing for several months and will become the compost for this year's garden, so I'd say I'm getting a pretty decent return on my investment.

March Madness

Though I do not begrudge those who do, or even those who simply enjoy getting caught up in the collective fervor, I do not enjoy televised basketball in the least. (I just found out that my graduate alma mater, ole' pdx.edu will appear on the NCAA bracket for at least another five hours. Yikes!) No, for me the month of March marks a different sort of excitement. After months of playing the waiting game, I finally get to seed in preparation for the no-guts, no-glory main event--the Spring/Summer garden.

Let it be known that I am not a big risk taker. Even the lowest of stakes are often more than I can bear. So when I decided to try my hand at gardening for the first time, I stuck with transplants. I learned a great deal that year, including but not limited to the following:
1. Blisters and the importance of good work gloves
2. A really awesome Catwoman-style backflipping inversion during my yoga practice that became a dorky physical metaphor for trusting myself more and wussing out less
3. Soil is divine.
4. The real reason that my grandfather wore overalls
5. With skills that were accidental at best, I could grow food.

My life hasn't been the same since. That first Fall, my overall-wearing grandfather passed away, and I buried myself in the best possible form of diversion--learning. Mania really. I read every book on plant propagation that I could get my hands on at the library, and when I'd exhausted that resource, I went to the library in the next town over. I took it all in, and without the cramming or anxiety of my University years, I found myself sowing Heirlooms in the basement that March. Cautious as ever, I seeded three times as many plants than I had space or wherewithal to plant out. I figured that the majority of them wouldn't even come around to sprout, and that 1 out of 8 wouldn't be bad. Besides, from all of my new learning, I gathered that Heirloom varieties could be fickle. Here's what I learned last year:
1. If you seed 40 plants, you just might get 40 plants. I did. I think I have my grandfather's good sense of humor and grace to thank for that.
2. Always label your seedlings. If you think that you will remember what is what, you are wrong.
3. I should have kept better records, hence the blog.
4. I grow a damn good tomato.

That being said, starting from seed is not to be taken casually. It is one of the most thoroughly exciting and terrifying things I have ever done. It requires patience, attention and sacrifice. This time around, I'm taking this to new heights. No basement this year, and I wouldn't let Mark build the greenhouse for me that he wanted to. No, no. Just as The Roaring Twenties were the heyday of bathtub gin, 2009 will mark the year of Bathtub Veg. Yes, we have suspended a frame with adjustable lighting above the (empty) Jacuzzi bath. What's great about starting the seeds above the tub? Bathrooms are warm, and you can adjust moisture and circulate air at the drop of a hat. Or so it seems thus far. I am well aware that I may have lost my mind on this one, as I am forgoing nice comfy baths until the end of April for the sake of my seedlings. I guess being the Madwoman Gardener in March can't be half bad--as long as things pan out deliciously in August.