----- Original Message ----- From: Merla Barberie <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> To: <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> Sent: Friday, November 01, 2002 2:11 AM Subject: Re: Hated Weed Hi Merla - you're a fast learner - this is good
> ..."Acidic soil, severely compacted, nutrient deficient > particularly in oxygen, nitrogen, copper and potassium, not many other > plants about, those that do grow are subject to aphid attack. Just a > moment." > > The pendulum became active for a moment or two. "Hilly country, possibly once > forested with fir, that might explain the acidity. Public land, I think, > probably laneway or roadside. How am I doing . . . . . .?" > > The woman had gray scraggly hair and plenty of wrinkles under a Tilly hat. She > smiled and started speaking quickly in that awful American brogue, "Too dry for > aphids on the right-of-way at the end of the summer. You're right about the > road. It's in a draw beside Rapid Lightning Creek. I have references on > dowsing, but it's hard to get started. I get my information from conventional > sources" > > Charles nodded and leaned against the fence. This lady was trying to talk his > language. "What about the acidity?" > > "The soil has a pH from 6.5 to 5.9 and the CEC for the 6.5 bare soil is 4.0. A > hawkweed patch has a CEC of 8.7. Putting missing elements back into the soil > is a good strategy for a farm, how about for a whole 8-mile road or a county > weed program? The county government has sprayed 2,4-D on the roads every three > years since I don't know when. The only thing they will spend their money on > is herbicide. I'm trying to learn something here in Australia so that I can > catch their imaginations and can get them to make the paradigm switch. They > have state ordinances that favor large ag chemical companies. They insist that > soil amendments be registered--to the tune of $100US an amendment per year. > > Now I've gone and said too much. I've gotten a lot of help from Australians on > the Net and this trip is my last hurrah at trying to do anything. I'm ready to > retreat to my own land and just do Bio-dynamics. People in my neighborhood > don't want the spray, but aren't willing to put time and energy into the road > themselves. If I don't make it back to Idaho, there's no one to take my > place..." Andrew Jackson's thoughts were a thousand miles away as he drove out the gate, he paid no attention to the small pile of gravel dust left behind by the spreader man, focussing instead on the fresh young wheat crop, ' thirty four days from emergence - sure hope the ground dries enough to get that foliar feed done next week ' Standing on the gas as he wheeled onto the bitumen, it took a few seconds to register the white hire car stranded a hundred yards ahead. As he pulled in behind, the grey haired lady straightened up, wheel wrench in hand. "G'day" he said "you better let me help you with that", "Oh I am doing fine, but thanks" - sparkling eyes, smiling, she passes the wrench. As he works at the wheel he ponders the accent - there's a bit of the western rancher but an undercurrent of something else eastern states maybe new york? As the flat tire goes back into the well she looks around at the rolling cropland and its backdrop of timbered hills - "Its pretty country" - " yep I like it, been here almost 30 years" - " its strange" she says " but its got the same feel as home" - "and where" he slowly asks "is home?" - " Oh, northern Idaho, up near the Canadian border" - " Hmm," in a low voice " So that explains the flat tyre! I think I have some things to show you - how 'bout you come back to the farm and we will talk about energy." L Charles
