Our First Bed
For the past few months, I've been collecting cobblestones from whomever had them to give away. The lion's share I gathered from a couple down the hill who had stowed away their own pile for a garden project they decided never to complete. I received a few more from another neighborhood connection, and additional car load from a generous person in an adjoining neighborhood. These cobblestones used to be San Francisco streets. Most of the stones are basalt, but there are few very regularly shaped granite stones, too, which may have served as curbs rather than pavers. When the houses in my neighborhood were built in the '30s through the 50's, the old stone streets were torn up. This neighborhood used to be full of family nurseries that sourced the flowers for the downtown markets. But in the decades of infill and resulting asphalt streets, the new residents often found uses for the old stones. Almost every house on the west side of my block, including my own, all built in the early 1950s, has retaining walls built from cobblestone and mortar. These stone walls have held up soil for decades, and most, including those in my property, are still in good shape.
They're beautiful: dark gray shining near black when wet with rain, the joints and mortar home to velvety moss, and they are heavy with history. So, when I set out to built a long raised vegetable bed in my yard, a bed in which I hoped to grow the historic and open pollinated varieties that I favor, those plants that tell stories, I knew the bed needed to have the dignity of San Francisco cobblestone.
Scott told me, "I love to move soil." He was as excited about the cobblestones as I was. I married him last month.
Just after we got home from our honeymoon, Scott and I dug out a trench that cut into a gentle sloping portion of the yard. My step kids helped with the digging. We lined the trench with galvanized 3/4" hex "gopher wire." Along the bottom of the bed we laid branches and trunks of shrubbery we've cleared out in the yard, creating a sunken hugelkultur bed. I tossed fertilizer over the wood to kickstart its decay. In the next couple weeks, we puzzled together the stones to create walls that were as even and attractive as possible (no mortar, in case we want to move or change things), returned the original soil to the bed, and added 30 cubic feet of purchased organic garden soil, enriching with worm bin contents and compost. Scott understood how to make the walls beautiful; I knew how to layer the soil.
To protect the bed from marauding birds and Indiana-the-dog's curiosity, we installed hoops we made out of PVC. We cut 1" PVC in short lengths and sunk it into the soil along the bed's edges. Then, we bent 10' lengths of 3/4" PVC into hoops, inserting each end into a 1" anchor. We snapped a single length of 3/4" PVC along the center-top of the hoops, providing some more strength. Over all of it, we draped the lightest of ag-fabrics, just enough to provide protection, and using PVC snaps, attached it to the top of the frame. Along the sides and bottom of the frames, we are using small spring clamps so we can easily open the sides and access the interior. We sheet mulched around the edges of the bed. We built something beautiful.
We are still on the lookout for more cobblestones. We've been edging the main garden pathway with them, and what we've completed looks right. It looks like it belongs here. We are short enough stones to finish the project right now, but we have plenty of time.
The stones are here. We just need to keep digging.
More about San Francisco cobblestones:
Cobblestones Unearthed on Vermont Street
A History of Paving Blocks Along San Francisco's South Beach Waterfront
They're beautiful: dark gray shining near black when wet with rain, the joints and mortar home to velvety moss, and they are heavy with history. So, when I set out to built a long raised vegetable bed in my yard, a bed in which I hoped to grow the historic and open pollinated varieties that I favor, those plants that tell stories, I knew the bed needed to have the dignity of San Francisco cobblestone.
Scott told me, "I love to move soil." He was as excited about the cobblestones as I was. I married him last month.
Just after we got home from our honeymoon, Scott and I dug out a trench that cut into a gentle sloping portion of the yard. My step kids helped with the digging. We lined the trench with galvanized 3/4" hex "gopher wire." Along the bottom of the bed we laid branches and trunks of shrubbery we've cleared out in the yard, creating a sunken hugelkultur bed. I tossed fertilizer over the wood to kickstart its decay. In the next couple weeks, we puzzled together the stones to create walls that were as even and attractive as possible (no mortar, in case we want to move or change things), returned the original soil to the bed, and added 30 cubic feet of purchased organic garden soil, enriching with worm bin contents and compost. Scott understood how to make the walls beautiful; I knew how to layer the soil.
To protect the bed from marauding birds and Indiana-the-dog's curiosity, we installed hoops we made out of PVC. We cut 1" PVC in short lengths and sunk it into the soil along the bed's edges. Then, we bent 10' lengths of 3/4" PVC into hoops, inserting each end into a 1" anchor. We snapped a single length of 3/4" PVC along the center-top of the hoops, providing some more strength. Over all of it, we draped the lightest of ag-fabrics, just enough to provide protection, and using PVC snaps, attached it to the top of the frame. Along the sides and bottom of the frames, we are using small spring clamps so we can easily open the sides and access the interior. We sheet mulched around the edges of the bed. We built something beautiful.
The stones are here. We just need to keep digging.
More about San Francisco cobblestones:
Cobblestones Unearthed on Vermont Street
A History of Paving Blocks Along San Francisco's South Beach Waterfront
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