making beds

I have been preparing two beds for planting this week. I made a small one for flowers that is right up against the wall of my studio. It is just a long narrow rectangle of dirt that had accumulated gardening tools and an old hose and a fish tank we didn't have any place for. I kept looking at the spot and thinking it would be nice to have flowers growing there. So yesterday I moved the junk, including some bricks that I had neatly laid last year and started digging. The dirt was dry as sand and uniform in texture and color. I dug down a ways and then started adding amendments. Some food, some worm casings and a whole lot of compost. Then I added water in a slow steady stream to make it hospitable for the seeds. I let it sit for a day and when I went back to it I was pleased to see how good it looked. The dirt was dark and moist and had a lot of varied texture to it. I felt it with my hands and dug in to test how far the moisture went down. I made holes with my fingers and dropped in the beautiful Calendula seeds I had. They have a curled crescent shape and a little stair step down the outside edge that reminds me of ferns and other things prehistoric. I placed a couple in each little hole and then covered them up, putting them to bed, tucking them in just as I would my own children. Then I opened a seed packet of Snapdragons and broadcast those along the back of the bed. I whispered sweetly to them all before spraying them with a fine mist.

Today I took the girls out to the garden to plant vegetables. We lifted the fabric cover off the other bed that I have been working on. The soil was gorgeous. This bed is a raised rectangle that has a lot of intention built into it already. It has been resting for many months after I turned a vigorous cover crop under to compost last spring. I had covered it with Avocado leaves as mulch, and just recently removed them. Underneath was moist fragrant dirt. I dug my hands in and felt satisfaction wriggle through every cell of my body. The scent of earth, rich and moist rose up my nose and said, I am ready! I evened out the slight hills that had formed from wind and small animals over time and I added a little more dirt and compost.

Before digging holes for the seeds, I had the girls sprinkle a little plant food over the surface. We mixed it in and then we used our six hands to smooth out the surface again. It smelled so good and felt so nice that we all fell into a trance and could have probably kept on smoothing all afternoon. Then we had fun poking holes and dropping the seeds in, marveling at their different shapes and the tiny patterns that some of larger ones had. Cilantro seeds, it turns out, look like little beach balls with stripes.

Preparing beds for planting is in some ways more satisfying than planting the seeds. The planning, the working of the soil, and finally smoothing it out is as fun to me as setting up a drawing or thinking about a story. It is setting a stage. And describing it this way makes me picture a body lying down. Mine perhaps. Then working on it. Setting it up for optimal growth and an abundant harvest.