Fido's companion

Fido had become unwell;  he had been working too hard.

Fido

Over several years he had done so well that his patch had been enlarged incrementally and he had found himself working all available hours.

"Available hours" is limited;  Husqvarna require that he rest for 7 or 8 hours every day,  so they built it into his firm-ware.   They suggest that he rest for at least one day every week,  but he wasn't able to patrol his entire turf in the available hours.   So,  no rest days.

So he broke down.

The saga of his workshopisation is a sad one,  told elsewhere.   He was lucky to survive,  and he will never go back to that workshop.

Another was found,  and Martin proved to be an able and intelligent technician:  Fido survived and thrived.   But Martin did point out that Fido was not built for the amount of work he was expected to do.

Rover

A replacement?

With Fido working again it seemed harsh to sell him and buy a bigger machine.
A better solution was for Fido to enter semi-retirement and another machine be found to patrol the larger area.
The new machine is a Husqvarna 430X:  Rover.

This was also an opportunity for the LG to ease his workload,  especially as his Sea Cadet duties needed more and more time.
So the vegetable beds were levelled and seeded with grass.   Some of the overgrown shrubs were trimmed back and the slope to the river was smoothed and grassed.
He couldn't bring himself to grass over the asparagus bed,  despite its short season and the beetle.
New cable was laid,  and Rover was activated and released.
Rover's programming turned out to be far more complex than Fido's,  and the LG still isn't sure,  months later,  that he's mastered it.

Decapitated snowdrops

But Rover works,  and he works well.   He copes well with roughish ground and very well with narrow passageways.   He worked,  with reduced hours,  through the winter rain and cold,  but not,  of course,  with the snow.   He coped not so well with the bottom of the slope to the landing stage:  something will need to be rearranged there before the growing season begins again.
The expanded area included some wild flowers under bushes which were removed:  February showed that Rover had no respect for snowdrops.

And Fido?

He was asked to look after the front lawn:  the one that visitors,  students and candidates see first.
He cuts it short,  down to 2cm,  for about 10 minutes every day.
The grass has become thicker and stronger,  and some of the perennial weeds have died down.   But the better grass shows up the patches of moss.

The LG has a new quandary.

He spends no time mowing the lawns,  but the time saved is not spent in a deck chair,  admiring the grass.   He's spending it on lawn maintenance.

Boats and Mowers

Fido had become stuck on The Bank.

Again.

The Bank is steep(ish) and there is a small irregularity with which he it can't cope.   As he it continues to try he it eventually crosses the boundary wire and switches himself itself off.   He It then needs to be moved and rebooted*.

This is a minor nuisance which could be removed either by moving the boundary wire or by smoothing the small irregularity.

At about the same moment a heron chose to alight on one of the boats,  presumably to lunch on small fish.

What is the LG to do?   Rebooting Fido will disturb the heron:  not disturbing the heron won't get the grass cut.   For a real LG the answer is obvious:  do nothing.

*In the Old Days,  when the LG was a young man and learning Fortran (you won't remember Fortran:  it was a computer language when life was simple and computers had valves (you won't remember valves:  don't ask.)) computers often crashed.   They were then 'bootstrapped';  lifted by their bootstraps (a theoretically impossible task) and persuaded to calculate again.   Obviously computers don't have bootlaces;  it was a metaphor from a Bygone Age.

Computers are now 'booted up' (a startling and destructive mental image);  if they crash (another startling mental image) they are 'rebooted'.

Fido is a computer which is firm-programmed to move its structure around the garden and to trim the grass.   A robot.  With wheels.

Some robots walk.   They still don't have bootlaces.

Shallots

 

"Plant on the shortest day, 
to harvest on the longest day"  from here

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.

Asparagus and Leaves

It's the end of October,  and the deciduous trees are shedding their leaves.  The lawns are covered,  and the grass will begin to suffer if they are not moved.

The asparagus shoots are over;  they,  too,  are shedding their leaves and beginning to fall over.

The asparagus was cut to the ground (with all that mulch it's hard to know where the 'ground' really is,  but just below the surface of the mulch will do!) and thrown onto the lawn.  The thick cover of foliage through the summer had inhibited the growth of weeds,  but new seedlings of mallow and nettle had to be removed and the dying stems of willow-herb pulled out.  The willow-herb is perennial and its roots spread widely through the vegetable beds and the fruit cage:  probably all over the garden!  It can't be eliminated;  just pulled out whenever it's seen.

The stack of weeds and asparagus fronds on the lawn might get in the way of the electric mower,  but the petrol mower cut them into tiny fragments which were perfect for the compost bin!

And then the leaves.
The petrol mower sucked them up,  cut them into tiny pieces and bagged them.  They were then tipped onto the asparagus bed and spread into a uniform layer.  Over the winter the fungal hyphae will invade the pieces of leaves and digest them.  The earthworms will move up under the insulating blanket and swallow the fungal hyphae,  bits of leaf and lots of soil.  Then they'll spread their fertilizing casts throughout the mulch and deep into the root-zone of the soil.

Next Spring the plump,  succulent spears of asparagus will push up through the mouldering leaves and the family will enjoy this most delicate of gourmet foods until mid-June.
By the time the fronds are allowed to grow again the leaves,  the fungi and the worms will have worked their magic,  and the thick,  spider-like roots will swell with food for the following Spring's harvest.
By this time next year all those leaves will be leaf-mould,  more leaves will have fallen and the cycle will continue.

Meanwhile,  it's a mild Autumn and most of the leaves have not yet fallen:  more leaf-mould to come!

Why Compost?

Why do it?  and why use it?

Compost is plant (and often animal) remains which have been eaten and digested by a range of small creatures,  such as slugs,  snails,  woodlice,  worms,  moulds and bacteria,  and then passed out as "droppings".

"Decayed",  or "rotted" means that bacteria and fungi have "eaten" the remains of the plants and left behind the undigested bits,  their droppings and their own bodies.

While these beasts are eating,  digesting and leaving their wastes,  very little is lost from your compost heap.   A little Nitrogen,  perhaps,  becomes a gas or two and escapes.   Some of the Carbon becomes Carbon Dioxide and escapes.   But most of the elements in the plant (and animal) bodies simply get formed into another compound,  and another,  and another . .

Plants need Nitrogen,  Phosphorus and Potassium (NPK) (K is the chemical symbol for Potassium),  along with many other elements,  in order to grow.   They absorb these elements,  dissolved in water,  through their roots.   Most of these elements are present in compost in forms which dissolve slowly in water.

So compost is a slow-release fertilizer.

Some of your compost is humus,  that dark jelly which glues particles of sand and clay together to make friable granules of soil;  that mysterious colloid which absorbs water like a sponge and releases it when your plants need it;  that active group of cation exchange complexes which loosely bind and release the elements which your plants need for growth;  that magical mix of macromolecules which seems to protect your plants against diseases;  that indigestible synthesis of lignins and quinoles which is stable for decades and centuries.

That very basis of a fertile soil.

But why compost?

Why not just mix the wilted weeds and waste plants into the soil of your veg patch and let them get on with it?

Why?   Because they'd suck the life (actually the Nitrogen) out of your soil,  that's why.

The dead vegetables have a Carbon to Nitrogen ratio of between 11:1 and 30:1.   The bacteria which digest (rot) them have a Carbon to Nitrogen ratio of 5:1,  so they need more Nitrogen than their food can provide.   They draw the extra from the soil around them and so,  for a while,  deplete the soil of Nitrogen.   If this happens in your veg plot,  your plants will starve.   If it happens in your compost heap,  then the rate of decay will slow down for a while.

Eventually,  of course,  the Nitrobacter and Azotobacter will get together and use Nitrogen from the air to make up the deficiency.

A compost heap is a temporal buffer to get the decay process past the short-term shortage of Nitrogen.

Weeding

Weeds are good.

You should harvest them regularly and often to feed your compost heap.

Some weeds,  like docks,  cow parsley and mallow,  have very deep tap roots which penetrate the ground much deeper than your carrots or broad beans.   These roots collect water & minerals (plant food) and bring them up to the weed leaves.   By harvesting these leaves you transfer those minerals to your compost heap and bind them into humus.   When that humus goes into your vegetable patch it holds water and releases the minerals to your vegetables.   Don't bother to dig it under:  the worms will do that for you.   At the same time they'll create tubes and channels for water and air.

If,  while harvesting your weed leaves,  you didn't pull up the roots,  that's good in two ways.   First,  you didn't damage the vegetable roots which,  inevitably,  are intertwined with the weed roots.   Second,  you'll get another crop of weed leaves to harvest in a week or so!

Eventually,  the constant harvesting of its leaves will weaken the weed and the root will come out.   That's OK:  you've loosened the soil and you won't need to dig that bit!   You've created a long,  deep hole into which your plant roots can grow easily,  that worms can move in readily and which will carry water and air deep into the soil.

Other weeds are annuals.   They have shallow roots  which pull up easily,  and they make good compost.

Now that you can see no weeds,  sharpen your hoe (Yes: give it an edge like a kitchen knife!) and slide it through the top inch or so (no deeper!) of soil every couple of days.

And the compost heap?

Find an empty patch of vegetable bed and dump your harvested weeds there.   They'll cover the soil and prevent it drying out.   As they wilt their fluids will seep into the soil and feed the soil microbes.   They'll exclude light from the soil and so,  to an extent,  suppress the growth of more weeds.   The bottom layers will moulder,  and the fungi will convert cellulose and lignin into smaller,  humic,  molecules;  micro-beasts will come up to eat the fungi and then leave their dung in the soil.   The worms will leave casts under the weed heap,  and they'll 'dig' the soil for you.

When you want to sow seeds into that patch of ground,  simply move the heap elsewhere,  and sow the seeds.