Soil matters

A while ago, I touched on the topic of compost.  This is something very close to our hearts, and indeed soil nutrition is absolutely paramount to anyone wanting to produce anything from their land.  In short, you get out what you put in.

I grew up with a father who, while not completely obsessed with his compost heap, was borderline.  I have therefore a moderate level of knowledge of the art of controlled decomposition.  Recent work down here in Costa Rica has given me a few new tricks to add to the repertoire.

Once several cubic yards of material is collected, the process starts by making a soupy mash of yucca (a starchy vegetable) and rice, which is left to ferment under the forest canopy for several days.  When ready, this now frothy soup has been colonized by a variety of decomposer organisms native to the area, and is a powerful inoculant for the compost heap, to kick-start decomposition.

In the shade, a pile is built up of alternating layers of coarse material, green material and fresh manure, followed by a liberal sprinkling of inoculant and molasses diluted 5 to 1 with water.  Repeat this lasagna until all your material is used up.  Cover this heap with plastic, and leave for a week.  Turn the heap, mix and repeat.   Within 3 days the temperature at the core of the heap was 70oC, and within 2 months the heap was finished.

Over the last few years Em and I have had the opportunity to meet and learn from a number of farmers who have been working organically for years, and have managed to actively increase the fertility, productivity and health of their soil.

John Wilcox, the late owner of Duck Creek where we were married, was one such farmer.  John’s formal soil science training at Guelph University provided him with the knowledge to turn a worn out, overgrazed valley bottom into a highly productive little farm.  Similarly, Doug and Jeanette Helmer and family now grow some of the best potatoes (certainly that I’ve eaten) in Pemberton on organically and biodynamically managed land.  Key to both of these farm successes has been cover cropping and practices designed to avoid compaction, structural damage and actively build soil by the continual addition of organic matter.

With our plan to grow intensive vegetables, quite a bit of tilling is inevitable to prepare a seedbed in which we can realistically expect things to grow.  The key is performing this tillage in a sustainable manner for longterm productivity.  Our plan is deep tillage with a spader (one of the most Heath-Robinson farm inventions I’ve ever seen) or chisel plough to avoid bringing subsoil to the surface, and avoid forming a plough pan (a hard, smeared layer of soil at the bottom of the furrow that over time becomes impenetrable to water and roots).  A cover crop such as peas, oats, mustard or warm season grasses like sorghum-Sudangrass is then sown.  The crop is mown and tilled into the soil while still alive, adding nutrients and structure to the soil.

If we manage our cover cropping/ green manure program well, we can tap into a huge resource of macronutrients.  In the atmospheric column above 1ha of land, there is 78,000 tonnes of nitrogen for the taking.  The challenge, as Mr Haber found out, is extracting that and getting it into a form available to plants.  The synthesized method of nitrogen fixation is hugely energy intensive, yet leguminous plants carry this out for us, virtually for free.  Cover crops also act as a “catch crop”, locking up any soil amendments like manure or compost over the winter, preventing them leaching out of the topsoil.  “Peak phosphorous” is another pressing concern, for many people more so than nitrogen, with levels of use of this macro-element rapidly depleting known reserves.

We are lucky in that we are targeting our land search in areas blessed with both family members and friends, but also top-notch soil.   But farmers in drier and less favourable areas have been using no-till practices for years to improve and protect fragile soils.  Today, cover crops are also finding their place in mainstream agriculture with a hybrid of mulched no-till cropping gaining in popularity.  In this method, a cover crop is grown early in the season and rolled flat.  Into this mat is sown the main crop such as corn, soybeans or cotton.  The mulch mat reduces weed pressure, improves water storage and overall soil structure.  In some cases, farmers have seen a 90% reduction in herbicide use.

Several cousins of mine farm grain and sheep in Western Australia. Over Christmas last year we caught up with the Australian side of the family (and Em got to meet them all at once!), and I was stunned when I found out the current costs associated with their fertilizer inputs.  Granted, they operate on a scale orders of magnitude bigger than our plans, but even with economies of scale, the dollars per acre really start to add up.  We have made the decision that we are not keen on heavy chemical use and reliance, and have been tossing up whether to head in the direction of organic certification.  On one hand it would allow us to command premium prices.  On the other, we would have to deal with a heavy regulatory burden and other costs as well as a prescribed list of products we are allowed to use.  Farming organically without certification means reduced yields without the premium pricing to make up for the shortfall.

In addition, we feel that certified organic has become something of a misnomer in many ways in recent years.  Agribusinesses like a certain large Californian company producing salad greens operate on a huge scale, employing technology extremely effectively, but at the same time with fossil fuel inputs at a level that almost negate the benefits of going organic in the first place.

So, we’ve still a lot to think on, but we’re getting there, in this area at least if not in others!

2 roads diverged in a yellow wood…

This farm started with a poem.  Not true, the inspiration for this iteration of the name started with a poem.  Having passed names back and forth between us and even enlisted the help of friends and family in finding the perfect name (Lusty Milkmaids Farm, anyone? No? How about Thirsty Mongrel then?), we reverted to one of our original inspirations. It seems somewhat ass-about-face to be naming a business and starting the website before we have even bought seed, let alone planted it. But while in Costa Rica (where I am assisting Emily with her PhD field work), I am doing all I can to move forward our plans for later this year.

The sentiment of Robert Frost’s 1920 poem “The road not taken” summed up perfectly for us the route that we have gone down, arriving at the point where we are about to buy a farm and start working it. From teaching 6-year-olds about blue footed boobies to harvesting spruce forests in Scotland, via time in Uganda and fixing radios at the top of 400′ tall cell-phone towers, we have gone down a number of roads, and reached a junction with no real idea of why we went that way, or if we want to continue down the same path. Some might say we’re indecisive, and if I’m honest I may well be. Until a couple of years ago, I had no real picture other than a vague foggy notion of what it was I wanted to fill my days with. There has been been no “Eureka!” moment, more a gradual crystalizing of ideas that I want to be outside, and working with my hands. Luckily for me, Em is in full agreement, which led us to apprenticing for 2013 at Rootdown Farm in Pemberton, BC. Over the course of the summer we added to our knowledge of growing things and scaled up to market-garden size, along with learning to keep pigs, chickens, and just a couple of sheep (we got a little bit of press here). Absolutely, we still have a lifetime of learning ahead of us (which is part of the appeal), but we feel now that we have found a way of life that will hopefully provide us with both a means of earning a living and a quality of life that we are happy with.

We are under no illusions about the amount of work that we have in front of us, after all as the old adage goes “how do you make a small fortune in farming? Start with a big one!” I worked at one time on a cattle station in central Australia, 4 hours from Alice Springs. While I was there, the owner took his first day off in I think it was 24 years. When I looked at him incredulously, he said that in his opinion, he hadn’t really worked a day in those years, as he truly loved what he did. I have hoped since then to find something that I loved to do that much, and I think we are close. For the first few years at least we are anticipating having off farm jobs for at least a portion of the year, if not most of the winter.

The aim with this blog is primarily to keep informed those family members and friends who think we may have lost the plot, but also to synthesize the research that we have been carrying out into one place, both for us and also hoping that it may be useful to others in a position where they are thinking along similar lines for their future.

So, to round off for this first post, here in its entirety is “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost

And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

(copyright, the Robert Frost Family Collection)