Stuck in the middle (of the field) with you: Getting a slow start on the Marston Victory Garden

Brad and Elwood working with the camp's Kubota

“Be careful about how much fertilizer you use,” a conversation about the victory garden started.  “The soil up there was always very nutrient rich, and produced potatoes without adding much.”

            “The fertilizer we ordered is actually compost,” I answered.  “It will help build the soil and will aid in water retention.”

            “Oh, that soil holds water,” the person continued.  “In fact, it will sometimes hold so much that it pools on top.”

            “That sounds like clay to me.”

            When the road was finally clear enough to drive, Brad headed up to the camp to fire up the tractor and start turning over the soil.  We went up with him to get an idea of what kind of shape the field was in.

            “There’s Brad now,” Myra pointed out when we pulled into the road running through the field with our car.  “Better get out and take some before pictures.  He is getting it tilled up right now.”

            The camp’s cute little Kubota was driving toward us cutting into the grass and soil with its PTO driven tiller.  In standard farm kid style, Brad’s son Elwood was riding in his dad’s lap.

Bub saw her friend, and bailed from the car as soon as we were stopped.  I pulled my phone out and snapped some quick shots wanting to get a good batch of before pictures to include with the beautifully tilled after pictures.

Cottonwoods, willows, and grass are starting to reclaim the field.

            Brad shut down the tractor and clambered down with Elwood to give us a tour of the out buildings and help us take stock of what we had on hand and what we would need to work the field that summer.

            A log “barn” held some ancient equipment and what we hoped were vacated yellow jacket nests.  There was a raft frame, an old air force generator, some machine made from a steel frame and chicken wire, and enough dust to plant another field right inside.

            The plywood shed held spades and hose that looked like it would add nicely to that which we had ordered.  The building itself showed the signs of years of being left vacant on the side of a field.

            Brad climbed back on the tractor and Myra, Bub, and I continued to look around the field and the equipment we hoped we could get operable again to be put into service in the potato field.  The next time we turned around to take a look at Brad’s progress, he had the tractor wedged cross ways between two large tire ruts dug into the earth.  The tractor wheels were coated in clay the consistency of Crisco.

            No amount of shoveling, wedging willows under the wheels, or rocking back and forth was going to budge it.

            “I’ll go get the camp’s Kubota side by side,” Brad explained, “a little tug should get me out.”

            And, it did.

            “Can you drive this over to the other side of the field and park it on the road?” Brad asked as he climbed back onto the tractor.

            “Sure,” I smiled, excited to operate a little equipment myself.

            I pointed for the other end of the field and where a trail had been worn through the grasses.  I figured if others had driven there, that I should have no problems with a little side by side.

            Brad was shaking his head as he walked up to where I was sitting… up to the frame of the side by side in mud.

            “I didn’t want you to feel like you were the only one,” I sheepishly explained.

            We hooked the tractor to the side by side and Brad attempted to pull me out.  The field was the consistency of a wet sponge albeit less supportive. 

            Our car was sitting on firm gravel and so we hooked a rope between it and the stuck Kubota to give a kind of tandem pull.  Myra got behind the wheel of the side by side, Brad pulled with the tractor, I pulled with the car, and the little Kubota crawled out of its mudhole.

            “Well, I think that is enough progress for the day,” I said looking at a field with almost no tilling done to it.

            “It’ll need to dry out a little anyway,” Brad agreed.

            Day one of our farming work and we had managed to get both pieces of equipment stuck and the most soil we turned over was due to the tires digging into the ground.  Clay, clay, clay.

            With some time, the field would dry out, but my wheels started spinning on how to get a bigger tractor to work the field of heavy wet clay.  Like with anything, the start is the hardest part.  If getting stuck counts as getting started, we were on our way.

Maybe the boat parked on the side of the field should have been a clue to how much water it held.  This is the trail I buried the side by side in.