Despite this post’s title, digging is something we intend not to do, or at least something we intend to keep to a minimum. But I couldn’t resist the temptation to title the post in ironic reference to the “Drill, baby drill” of the petro-chemical establishment’s anti-ecological mantra. Of course, it’s impossible to plant almost anything without making a hole, but the point of no-dig gardening is to avoid disturbing the earth and destroying the microscopic organisms that turn sterile dirt into productive soil, thereby encouraging the propagation of life on our planet. Tread carefully when gardening!

Our plans for a vegetable garden are progressing. The attached image shows a plot of 40 ft x 25 ft, with 3” minimum of compost and cardboard underlay. This should suppress the weeds and grass in the lawn, while a as-yet-to-be-built 4 ft fence should keep out the deer (for rabbits and other small critters, we’ll used chicken wire on the bottom 1.5 ft). No garden that aims to rejuvenate nature as well as provide food for the table can manage without a kitchen garden, hence it is our first structural change to the monolithic lawn we inherited.

We have two further beds in view, both for non-vegetable plantings. The first is adjacent to our deck at the back of the house, and another next to the drive at the front of the property, Both serve to indicate that we plan no limits in this garden, but to cover as many bases as possible that will sustain not just us, but the flora and fauna that we need to reattract to our plot of Midlothian land. Perhaps it is worth saying that we have no overall plan. Given the financial, labor, and ideological limits we place on ourselves, a fixed plan, executed in conjunction with a professional landscaper and paid for with unearned income is not what we want, or are able to do. Rather, serendipity, along with constant attention to the needs of nature, will be our guide. With this plan, opportunity and hope can achieve far more than a planned “corporate” garden could ever provide. Nature needs help, not domination, sympathetic assistance not coercion. It is for this reason that we prefer to ask of our garden in Midlothian, “What do you need?”, rather than what we want. The idea is akin to those masters of Japanese woodcraft that ask a similar question of the timber they have acquired. Instead of imposing a regime of the material, they contemplate (perhaps even meditate), with humility of what the wood is trying to do, before drawing up plans or making the first cut. This process of asking what the material needs is equally applicable in garden. Already, after only a few weeks, our garden is showing us what is working, and what is not. It is not for us to dictate, but for us to learn from what is in front of us. Only then will we be able to say, “This is our garden, I hope you like it.”