Human-powered farming means fine-tuning one’s eye and mind to fractions of inches. I’ve been convinced of my excellent eye-hand coordination since thwapping softballs back in middle school, thinking I was as natural at such focus as Robert Redford in The Natural. But alas, forming a 55-foot row has shown me that practice always makes perfect and I may be a couple seasons before finding myself as lead at bat. 
Several tricks to our precision are key: place a strip of weather-resistant tape (such as electrical) on the handle of a square shovel, at a distance from the tip of the shovel that you’d like the width of your row. Our tape is 30 inches up the handle; walking down my row, every several feet, I lay the shovel down to measure and ascertain if I’m on track. The shovel is making the path, so whatever I scoop is thrown onto the 
emerging bed.
With a roughed-out 30-inch-wide row, we follow with a 1/4-inch layer or so of compost, throwing it on with the flat shovel in an excited bowling sort of throw (versus dumping a shovelful). And then the weasel, which was designed for weeding, but works great as a couple-inch deep cultivator, helping move the compost into the soil’s top layer. Then, a bed-preparation rake, which is like a grading rake. Running this lightly over the surface a couple of times helps smooth out any variations in depth; I also manipulate it a bit to push an extra half-inch here and there to make the row the desired width. Sometimes I pick up 
rocks and left-behind root debris during this step. Finally, I roll over the row a couple of times with a heavy metal cylinder. A 50-gallon plastic drum would probably also do the trick. With the soil’s surface thus compacted, a 4- or 6-row seeder will wheel along nicely and not get caught in too much fluffy dirt. Seeds want good soil contact, so don’t worry about the compaction by the roller.
Check out Johnny’s Selected Seeds and Peaceful Valley for tool supplies. More pictures and how-to descriptions of seeding to come!
Hot from the oven is THE best way to eat bread. Thus, it has been very difficult to endure an hour-long wait post-bake time for the sandwich breads I’ve baked of late. Dense and moist, these loaves need their space for a little bit before being sliced up with the bread knife. Otherwise, you end up pulling and tearing at your previously beautiful, steaming creation. Given my heavy hand with the molasses, I consistently end up with a somewhat softer center than promised by the recipes, but herein lies the beauty of baking fresh bread: love your edible mistakes, eat them, and try again.
Place the boiling water, oats, butter, salt, molasses or syrup, and honey into a medium-sized bowl, stir, and let the mixture cool to lukewarm.
Lots of ‘B’s’ these days, and actual bees will arrive in two weeks time. 
tool drooling hopefuls like me everywhere.
My fire crackles rapidly these days with burns-as-fast-as-it-grows cottonwood. A series of storm fronts is visiting, no, taunting, the area and dropping just enough snow to muddy our outdoor garden bed preparation, making our eager spring spirits look elsewhere. We have little difficulty hearing other tasks call us by name. Standing dead cottonwoods have received some attention, as have emerging patches of lawn encrusted with rake-able leaves left to lie last fall. The burn pile should prove exciting . . .
thawed hoop house, hoping to start some seeds. I eventually moved the starting pots into a close huddle around the fireplace, where nighttime warming should enable me to plant tomorrow. Visits with friendly farmers have revealed vegetable starts sprouted and well into their second and third inches of growth; we direct seed many of the veggies we grow, and purchase some starts from a local, organic grower. I’m willing to throw anything into a starter cell these days, just to feel some action, and thankfully have ten or so trial varieties to begin playing with.
Today dawned white and fluffy again, thanks to a storm cycling around the area. Trying its best to go out like a lion, March threw a curveball weather pattern our way. The big snowflakes eventually melted during noonday sun, only to be followed by a chilly wind and horizontal snow, which thankfully did not accumulate.
I went back to school last week, in a subject I thought I was finished with after dissecting a cat in high school: biology. Specifically, bee biology for beginners, served up alongside general beekeeping lessons. The class was in a 
Spring seems the most fickle of seasons. Today dawned sunny, warming our bodies enough to discard a couple of layers while working in the hoop houses. Then, a breeze floated into the pine boughs, the temperature dropped and the wind took greater hold. A snow squall appeared shortly, blowing over the Soldier Mountains and wafting in our general direction. Where sun rays had radiated across our vision, now flakes danced furious horizontal tangos. And then, all was calm, as the temperature continued to drop silently.
rows, covering the soil in a luscious green carpet. And while the hoop house greens grow ever faster, our minds run an even quicker pace. Seeds arrived today, from wonderful 
A cacophony of red winged blackbirds stimulates our greenhouse work days, the excited songs lilting somewhat hectically out of beat with our steady weeding rhythm. Such harbingers of spring have a way of flinging open the soul’s hopeful chambers, inviting any and all ideas to considerate roosting. Clarence and Tona routinely anticipate warmer weather and earlier planting dates by facilitating faster snowmelt from the outside garden area.
To do so, get a wheelbarrow of compost in position next to the area you would like to thaw. Get a good scoop-full on a flat shovel and fling it over the snow patch. The goal is to get a very thin layer of the compost on top of the soil, thus obstructing reflective surface. I went about it incorrectly with my first shovels, practically dumping compost on top of the snow, thinking it was the heat of the substance doing the work. Rather, all you need to do is change up the reflection, so that the sun’s rays are absorbed with the dark dirt. Coated in this manner, the snow is melting twice as fast as the surrounding mounds . . . I can almost see bare ground!
My knees no longer seem indefatigable body parts. Gone are the childhood days of elastic, carefree movement. Here to stay are the days of acutely aware bodily motions, exacted with attentive ears honed in on creaking parts.
reach far into a bed without going off balance. Let us know if you find where to purchase more of these!
your knees to doing non-knee-use tasks, preferably before too much time has passed. This ‘vary your physical movement’ rule is applicable for all farm tasks. Repetitive motion is not good for hours on end, no matter what it involves.
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