In Search of the Perfect Fertiliser

THE WORM FARM: THE POWER OF THE SMALL: 1
After practising organic horticulture for a number of years I have come to the conclusion that if you want big green cabbages, lush spinach, enough mint to make mint tea every day for all of your friends and tomatoes that taste of something, you need a good fertiliser.

Compost, in my experience, is good but mainly as a soil conditioner or mulch; as a fertiliser it just doesn’t do the trick. To buy organic manures works well but can be costly and generally you need to go and get it in the car, which is fine but I’m also trying to be conscious about my dependence on the car as a solution to my problems. This basically leaves keeping animals. Horses, goats, cows and sheep were out as I didn’t have enough space; they are also costly to buy and would need buying in food, paying vet’s bills and a constant care which could make going on holiday difficult. I pondered on the idea of chickens as they need less space and I could probably grow most of their corn myself and I would get the additional bonus of the eggs but the thought of not being able to nip off for a spur-of-the-moment holiday because I couldn’t find anyone to feed and water them for a week, weighed deep on my mind. It was all too much hassle and so I continued to buy in the manure.

One day my neighbour - a professional olive farmer (or not so professional depending how you look at things) - took a break from squirting his land with herbicide to have a chat with me. It was the usual one way conversation about how once you have paid for the herbicide, insecticide, fertiliser and diesel for the tractor to plough the land you are left with nothing…hardly worth collecting the olives. As he was saying this to me I couldn’t help but think that if he didn’t squirt that herbicide everywhere he might have some worms that every child knows help with the fertilisation of the land. They also help dig the land and so he would save money on herbicide, fertiliser and diesel and make money on his olives. Being a coward - and knowing better than to say to a 60 year old Catalan farmer what’s good for the land - I didn’t say this. But it got me thinking…