Since the last of the beans, the bed had been mulched with a thick layer of weeds and grass clippings.
This was in lieu of a compost heap which had always seemed like a waste of effort.
The grass clippings had sunk down into a compact sodden layer. The gardening experts tell us that a too-thick layer of grass mulch becomes an anaerobic stinking mess, but this mulch had not yet begun to smell.
The matted layer lifted easily from the soil underneath. The soil looked crumbly and worm-worked: there was evidence of moles. Some
of the mulch would have been turned into worm casts which would have
been spread across the interface of soil and mulch and taken deep into
the ground.
The surface needed no preparation; digging would have ruined it.
Forty shallot cloves from last years crop had been kept in a cool loft, but about 50% had rotted: perhaps they had not been dried thoroughly. Twenty of the biggest bulbs were taken from the kitchen to replace them.
They were spaced along a marking board at regular intervals, and each one covered with a clay pot to keep off the birds.
