Rain, Rain...Come Back...

I'm really not a whiner. Really. But my poor little seedlings need rain. When I planted my snow peas (Snow Green) and snap peas (Sugar Sprint) the last of March, I was later than I should have been, but still on time. When my friend Jim--once an ag. teacher in Cecil County and later an administrator--told me he'd already planted his peas but they hadn't come up, I congratulated myself on waiting out the wet weather. Within 10 days, my peas started to sprout. First one, then two, then three, then...nothing. There may be other culprits in the Great Pea Failure. From my office window, I have seen robins scratching and pecking around. I am a big bird lover, but I've been opening my window and yelling at them almost daily, for all the good it has probably done.

Yesterday, trying to be optimistic, I scratched a shallow trench between my three sad little sprouts, and replanted. It's still early spring, right? O.k., maybe mid-spring. The weather is still cool. O.k., today it's 75. Even as I look out my window now, I see a robin hopping around one of the rows. I'm not going to bother yelling anymore. The peas will come up, or they won't. "Crops which develop in hot weather have lower yield and the peas are less sweet and tender." At this point, I'll take whatever I can manage to grow. And I so love snow peas! Oh well.

The bigger problem is the lack of rain. My nursery-grown broccoli transplants are showing signs of wilt as well. I can't remember exactly when we had our last measurable moisture, but looking back two posts ago, I figure it was about April 8th. We expected some on Sunday to Monday, but each time I looked at the satellite radar, there was a line of rain showers running from northwest to southeast in Maryland, neatly cutting off the northeast corner where we are. So yesterday, I began watering from my trusty rain barrel.

We've had a rainwater collection system for about 10 years now. Actually, it's a converted trash can with a spigot and a hole in the lid for the rain gutter. Earlier this month, in between rain showers, my husband Carl added a second barrel to catch some of the overflow. God bless him, because I've already used up the first barrel. You can purchase rain barrels for $100 and up, but I think Carl's design is ingenious and probably costs about $20: the price of a trash can, a spigot and a few other parts. See the bottom of this post for his plan; and here is ours in action yesterday.

Most of the time in spring, I am grateful for my light, sandy soil. I spent some time researching my soil type using the web soil survey tool, and learned that there are several soil types in my area, including Butlertown, Matapeake and Woodstown silt loam, and the highly-desirable Sassafras sandy loam--the State soil (yes, there is such a thing). Soil science has a language all its own, but it is clear that all of these soil types promote moderate to good drainage. Excellent for a rainy spring, not so great for a dry one. Looking at my soil, you can see a pictorial definition of another characteristic of my soil: friable. Actually, I think friable is intended to be a positive characteristic of good garden soil, but it sounds all bad to me. Loamy means good, rich, light textured soil. Friable would imply it is easily broken apart, or reduced to dust. That's what I'm seeing. I'm used to this in the summer, but by then I would have the soaker hoses down with a thick covering of straw to hold in all the moisture. At this point, every drop of moisture is evaporating into the spring sunshine. Once everything has emerged from the soil, I'll try to get that layer of straw down earlier than usual. Until then, it looks like my garden will be getting a daily sprinkling from the watering can.

© 2008 Jenifer Dolde