WINNEMUCCA - I once ordered something from a farm supply catalog, and they must have confused me with someone whose checkbook runs a surplus, because I get a new catalog with every adjustment in the weather.
These catalogs have fanned a hope that if I just bought the right accouterments, I too could grow the lush crops pictured in the catalog. One of my latest fancies is a raised bed made of plastic lumber with a clear plastic hood. The system retails for a few hundred dollars, but the advertisement promises vegetables when snow is still on the ground.
I was thinking about this when Phyllis, a ranch wife and a friend of the family, told me she was picking snap peas, lettuce and spinach in February last year. I assumed she'd invested in some super-deluxe system with a heater, but not so.
She just threw some rotten hay an empty tub that once held mineral supplements for their cattle. She only filled the tub half full, so the other seven or eight inches would block the wind and trap heat. Last fall, she planted seeds in the tub, and put it in a protected spot on the south side of the house. Then she ignored it, except for watering it a few times when there hadn't been moisture in a week or two.
The rotten hay was an excellent potting medium for the plants. It didn't compact like regular dirt would, and Phyllis thinks that maybe the composting action of the hay as it continued to rot and provide nutrients actually gave off a little warmth as well. Best of all, except for the seeds, it was free.
Most of us don't have cows or easy access to all those by-products, but we probably all have stuff lying around that could serve nearly as well. We're limited only by our ingenuity and our sense of aesthetics.
Yard sales can be mined for suitable containers. My mother once paid five bucks for what she thought was a huge pressure cooker, which she gave to me. I think it probably has a capacity of 10 gallons or more. It was actually an autoclave, used to sterilize hospital supplies, and while it could possibly be retrofitted as a pressure cooker, I'd not have room on my stove for it, nor would I want to lift it very often. It's heavy.
With a few holes drilled in the bottom, it'll make an unusual planter. I might not use it for winter planting though, since the metal would conduct cold all too well. I'll either prop the lid artfully against the side, or turn it upside down on some sort of support and use it for a bird bath.
The worry over filling your garden with objects d'junk is that it will look like trash. Personally, I believe adding a plant or two redeems the ugliest object, but not everyone would agree. Fortunately, there are some things you can do to keep the place looking decent while you wait to win the lottery so you can afford those handsome cedar planters.
Larger containers are probably easiest to work with, especially if they're similar in size and color range. Then you merely have to place them in a pleasing design, and your garden will look pulled together. Most likely, just organizing them for accessibility will result in a satisfying layout.
Smaller containers are easier to find, but have a higher potential junk factor. They're best massed, with the taller containers in the back, so that the plants blur the mélange of containers. Smaller containers do lend themselves to a variety of contours, and you can create triangles or soft curves with them.
Perhaps the best trick is to use objects that are interesting in themselves. Old kettles, canisters and even metal pails show up at yard sales fairly often, and can be grouped so that the varying sizes, shapes and colors are part of the display.
I once thought of arranging part of my garden around the theme of bathroom fixtures, since tubs and sinks make ideal planters. Unfortunately, my daughters balked at the idea of eating radishes grown in the toilet.
When Teresa Howell is not envying her friends their supply of rotten hay, she teaches English at Great Basin College.
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