This evening in the growing dark in the last hours of above freezing temps, I planted 27 cloves of garlic in a new raised bed I created with woodchips, old straw and fallen leaves. I had put this task off to the last minute and I don’t know why. I was really enjoying myself mixing dirt, compost and aged chicken manure in a tub waiting for just this moment. I parted the pile of leaves on top of the straw and woodchips and inserted a ball of dirt mixture in the pocket. Next I wedged a garlic clove halfway in the center of the dirt clump and covered it with another clump of dirt. I grew these garlic cloves last summer and they’ve been hanging in my basement, waiting to be cooked or planted. (Actually, I had selected the best garlic for planting today/tonite when I harvested it). And, I had to keep my mind on what I was doing because by now it was getting really dark. I didn’t want to plant two cloves in the same pocket of dirt or forget to add one. I think I did OK. But the point is, I really enjoyed doing it.
In the Web of Life 