Creating and spreading mulches in our gardens is a continual all year-long process. Trees and shrubs in forests are continuously losing branches and twigs, and shedding leaves. This process creates a mat or layer, a matrix (from the Latin for mother, 'mater,' as in alma mater) that holds in moisture, provides a substrate for germinating seeds, and decomposes into nutrients for existing plants. What will Mother N. think of next, eh? Well, the best part of it is that Mother N. doesn't think about it at all! No more than the birds do when they sing.
In our gardens, we need first to lay down a layer of coarse mulch; twigs, rough-cut stuff, and rather short pieces of small branches. As you are pruning bushes and shrubs have a garbage can next to you into which you throw the cut up stuff which should be short, 3-4 inch pieces. Don't cut your fingers off--it is easy to do with sharp pruners, so be sure that you know where the ER is in case of necessary stitches. Mine is only three miles away and I've never had to use it so far (for that), thank God. After you have cut the twigs and branches into small pieces, which takes some time during which you can listen to the sweet birds, smell the flowers, and keep an eye out for rattlers (I killed one last week so please don't report me to the bleeding hearts--it was only 3 feet from an adjacent day care center), then you can take this cut up stuff, detritus, and spread it very evenly in your plant bed and garden islands. Even, careful spreading is paramont. Next, take your grass clippings and spread those over the rough-cut stuff. Because I no longer have lawn, I get my clippings from friendly gardeners who cut my neighbor's lush, over watered lawns. It's good to chat with the gardeners and say "Ciao." As you spread these clippings, and some small leaves, this mixture will fall into the voids or interstitial spaces created by the rough-cut stuff. It will decompose and create molds and fungi which will in turn help to decompose the coarser stuff. You can even sprinkle on a bit of earth from time to time to create more bacteria. Keep it all moist. It is suprising seeing how quickly ("quick" as in living, not dead) the coarse stuff and the finer detritus will create a lovely bed of mulch that holds in moisture, provides nutients, and smells good. Good mulch always smells good, like a forest floor. And if you have all of your fingers, the process will need to be started all over again when you have plant stuff, clipping and leaves. Several layers of this kind of mulching are needed to create a beautiful, green garden. People always ask me why my garden is so green and beautifully lush, and I say it is because the mulch that I help to create holds in the water longer than neatly raked up, hard earth upon which the water simply runs off pretty fast.
I realize that chopping or cutting up that stuff takes time, but I feel that I would rather be outside for a couple hours than sitting indoors eating snacks, watching insipid-TV programs, or whatever. Now that I've told you about making great mulch and how cool I am, you can go into a forest somewhere and see exactly what I have described.
The water scientists tell us that not one drop of water, like energy, is never lost. The planet has now all the water it ever had, and will ever have. So they say. I trust the mystics and poets (read Shelley's "Clouds") who have said this for many centuries. Because we are about 60% water, or thereabouts, I wonder if we humans get recycled into the watery universe of living things and water resources as do other living creatues. It is reassuring to me to think of myself as water, especially when I am contemplating the mighty Mississippi or the Sea. As Thoreau put it, fish are merely animalized water; is it that way with us?
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