A Tale of Two Sides...

... Of my garden.

Lasagna

No lasagna

It's that time of year: the cold-weather seeds are in, and starter weekend is not far away. Gardening season is here.

As any long-term reader of this blog knows, my green thumb is not a natural green. My stomach is green -- that is, I learned at a young age to love eating home-grown vegetables. I therefore started a garden as soon as I had the space to garden. (Notice I didn't say "...and time" to garden?). And -- probably having something to do with that whole "time to garden" piece -- I've had varying degrees of success.

My gardening nemesis is, without question, weeds. And I've been at this long enough to come to a realization: I'm just never going to make the commitment to beating weeds by weeding. I don't have what it takes.

The alternative? Obviously, I have to out-smart them. But how?

I've tried everything from rugs (they fight through) to ground covers (they grow on top) to threats (they don't take me seriously), but those pesky weeds keep growing. Weeds are tenacious, but there must be a way...

This year I have invoked my inner Italian: I'm trying a new technique known as lasagna gardening. The premise, I believe, is more for those who are trying to establish a garden for the first time. Lay down cardboard then burlap, then more cardboard, etc. Then, in rows, continue layering: peat moss, straw, mulch, leaves, dirt, compost, etc. The idea is that the materials in the rows above the cardboard layers will break down to form a rich soil. Meanwhile, whatever weeds and grass lay covered by the cardboard should break down as the cardboard and burlap breaks down.

And so far so good -- from a "no weeds" perspective. (Although not at first: last fall, the seedless straw bale I picked up for the rows seeded. My rows sprung thousands of tiny seedlings. I dug up the whole operation, moved it behind our row of raspberry bushes, and started over -- skipping the straw.)

Take two. Without straw, the rows did not break down; they came out of winter looking like rows of dead leaves, peat moss, and compost -- exactly what I put into them. The question, of course, will become will plants grow in this stew? But no matter -- the main objective is working: on the side of the garden where I laid down the materials I have no weeds (above, left). None. The other half of the garden: covered with dandelions, goldenrod, grass -- and it's already out of control (above, right). I went out and purchased compost from a local nursery to add to my rows. I didn't want to buy compost, but listen. If it means no weeds, I'll give anything (except weed-killing chemicals) a shot. And -- so far -- the lasagna experiment is working.