The Would-Be Farm? Well, the soil could be richer and tastier for a hungry plant –– more stew than thin broth –– but it has been successfully nourishing a vibrant variety of flora for centuries. We're working on enriching it, but it's a slow process. I can't argue the sun into shining more (or less) than it will (or won't), but the long Northern days of June suffice for the crops I hope to grow.
The one immediately"manageable" factor is water.
The Farm has water. A beaver pond, a couple of separate streams that stay wet throughout the summer. But So far, Timmy can't fall into the well at the Farm because there isn't one.
Sadly, given how widely placed the plantings are, I don't know when or where to sink a well.
At present, we scoop water from the various streams, ponds, puddles, or the old cistern and tote it by hand and Kawasaki mule to where it's needed. In the height of dry summer, we carry a 55-gallon drum of water in the back of the truck from tree to thirsty tree.
It's not ideal. I'd like to have at least one well. And a hand-pump. Maybe next year.
A short drive away, my sister has the same spring water as the local bottling plant, cold and delicious straight from the faucet –– I'd be greedy to hope for water like that, but simply potable water would be great. Knock wood not sulfur-water.
My favorite skipper set up a small water catchment system at Base Camp. He put a gutter along the length of the roof, with a downspout leading into a connected pair of food-quality plastic barrels.
Aside from the lingering vinegary scent of peperoncino, an afternoon's drizzle turns into something like 100 gallons of plant-pleasing fisherman's daughter. It's not a lot, but the asparagus appreciate it. And while it's not drinking water for us straight from the bucket, rain-water is very nice for washing up. The application of ten minutes of boiling makes it safe enough to drink, though it's pretty small beer compared with my sister's spring water.
But that's a job for next fall. April showers are in full gush, and there's a spring clean on at Base Camp. Apparently, the mice have been having a rave. Every cupboard seems to have been used as a most rodential flop-house. Mousey love nests. Grrrr. The plants are fully hydrated; this week's cache of water must go to the annual boiling of the cooking utensils.