Confessions of a Hay Snatcher

Yes, I wanted a garden that gifted me with a bumper crop. But, yes, I wanted a bumper crop with no weeds.

I had helpers in my quest. Garden president, Kathi Stokes, suggested a model of weeding in an orderly way, one quadrant at a time. Alas, orderly is not in my genes, and I don’t like weeding, so while I debated Where do I start? Pig weed and portulaca-like purslane weeds declared war on my tomatoes and my squash.

When Bryan Duncan swore that pine needles are the best answer to discouraging weeds and to mulching a happy crop, I scouted pine trees with decaying needles that blanketed their roots. I took the American way: Get in the car; drive. So the Honda and I headed to our friend Valerie’s house in rural Gloucester County – nearly 40 miles round trip -- where a giant pine tree by her front door gave me its bounty. Then, with guilt about blanketing the earth with greenhouse gasses pricking my conscience, I spied a bountiful pine tree along the Speedline tracks. How righteous I felt: Free mulch just a stone’s throw down the track from my garden! Alas, my back and my psyche told me that raking and bagging and lugging pine needles were even more work than weeding.

I Could Have It All!

Then, Happy! Happy! Ruth Stout promised that I could have it all – bless my soul! A bountiful garden with no weeds. My garden neighbor, Shirley Raynor, loaned me Ruth Stout’s book, How To Have A Green Thumb Without An Aching Back. Then, bless him! Garden Manager, Arthur Leon, gave me my very own copy. I was hooked. Hay, Ruth Stout wrote, rotting hay, new hay, deep layers of hay will mulch away weeds, make earth worms rejoice, and discourage bugs.

Free Hay!

Off I went looking for hay. To my delight, I discovered that after Halloween and Thanksgiving, Haddonfield sidewalks sprout free bales of hay on trash days. I spied them on my morning walks and snatched them, rescued them before the monster trash trucks came. I’m smarter now. I phone my neighbors who decorate their porches with bales of hay and ask if they’ll give me a call when they’re ready to throw them out.

This winter, if you see a plot with bales of hay stacked high – it’s probably mine. It’s the plot with dancing earth-worms.

Mary T. Previte, Plot #21 (Photo by Alice Previte)