Posts Tagged ‘tree roots’
New Bin
What does it say about a person when the most exciting thing in a day is a new composting bin? The plastic compost bin for kitchen food scraps, which we bought when we moved here almost 13 years ago, has succumbed to the ravages of UV radiation and the destructive forces of relentless raccoons.
We picked a different version to replace it, and the company that manufactures it is Canadian and has the word ‘green’ in its name, so no wonder I’m feeling so giddy about it.
Though the confirmation email for our order didn’t show up as expected, Cyndie reached a human support person who apologized and assured her it was out for delivery.
After reviewing the helpful information in the manual and assembling the bin yesterday, Algreen is now on my preferred vendor list. I’m embarrassed over how excited I am to generate more coffee grounds, eggshells, and vegetable scraps to feed the new bin.
While I was in compost mode, I ventured over to the manure compost piles and set about transferring one of the finished piles to our storage location near the labyrinth. That is another two-for-one exercise, as it frees up space in the compost area and replenishes the amount available for immediate use.
One thing I have learned about allowing my piles of compost to rest on the bare ground, surrounding trees are not bashful about reaching up into the piles with their fibrous root structures. When scooping up the compost from the bottom of the mounds, it becomes a battle of tines hooking on thickets of growth that don’t give in easily.
A tree’s gotta eat. I don’t blame them since I’m the one who put all that rich nutrition where they could reach it.
It’s actually a reflection of how slowly we operate around here. The pile by the labyrinth gets dug into very infrequently, giving the trees plenty of time to establish a hearty web of fine root fibers. At the compost area, I’m guilty of leaving old piles that have gone cold undisturbed for longer than is optimum.
If I were to get around to establishing composted horse manure as a cash crop, my processes would get much more attention. Early on in our adventure of transitioning from suburbanites to country folk, we envisioned marketing our special concoction of “soul soil” from the rich compost we were getting.
In reality, I am moving in the other direction now and can often be found throwing scoops of fresh manure over the paddock fences into the pastures instead of collecting the precious material for the compost piles.
Our food compost and manure compost primarily feed Cyndie’s gardens with enough left over to fulfill the requests of a few friends and family who ask for an occasional bag full.
Yet, still, I find myself excited like a kid at Christmas over the process and having a brand new compost bin. It doesn’t define me, but this probably reveals something about my nature, I expect.
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Roots Respect
Toiling away on the chore of raking the ground in one of our paddocks yesterday, I had plenty of time to think about roots. I have a whole new respect for roots since I’ve moved here. Last year we had our fencing company begin the project of changing fence lines by clearing out an area that was left as a water drainage route, but which had been neglected and allowed to become a thicket of junk trees and accumulated debris. They cut down the trees, removed old barbed wire fence, and dug up the stumps to the best of their ability with their skid-steer tractor.
Much of that area they cleared became enclosed by our new paddock fences, so we are working to transition ground that was uncontrolled tree growth last year, into smooth footing for the horses. Trying to rake it is a constant battle with root remnants that continue to poke up out of the ground. Sometimes you pull and find it is completely loose. Other times, it comes easy, but is a long piece that travels quite a ways, churning up dirt. Too often, I’ll grab and tug, but the root doesn’t give at all. Then it’s time to dig and cut.
Those roots are so tenacious, I can’t help but feel increased respect for all they accomplish.
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This is some of the tangled mess that raking turns up.
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There are also rocks.
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And weeds.
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After I grew weary of raking, I took a break to check on our recently transplanted maple tree in the labyrinth. You really need to respect roots when you transplant a tree. We did our best to be careful to save as much of the root structure as possible, but I fear we ended up being rather ruthless. We cut the tap-root pretty short. I 
wish I could see what is going on under the dirt, but from the look of the leaves above, it doesn’t seem to be drinking up the water we are providing. Obviously, the tree is in shock over the experience of having its roots severed and then being transported out into full-day sunshine.
I’m really hoping that the tenacity I witness when trying to remove old roots in the paddocks, will manifest itself in the remaining portions of the severed roots under this little maple. It may be too late for the current batch of leaves to provide any indication that the root system is absorbing and transporting moisture, but I would sure be thrilled if we could find some hint that we aren’t continuing to water something that is already a lost cause.
Relative Something 