Gean, I have thought about that, and my ideas on the subject are these: I have no moral obligation to conduct my life so as to avoid possible waste on the part of posterity. How can I know anyway what will happen after I'm dead, and, as long as I'm responsible and positive in my lifetime, why should I worry about it? True, perhaps the garden will end up in the hands of insensitive jerks who will bulldoze it, but on the other hand it may become the property of unspeakably thrilled horticulturalists. If I don't have to sell our place out of financial necessity before I die, it will go to our daughter. There's a good chance she won't want to live here--but then perhaps she will--and I don't think she's going to be a fanatical gardener like me--but maybe I'm mistaken. Or she could marry a husband who loves to garden. Or I could establish a foundation to maintain the garden and keep it open for visits and teaching. I don't know what the future will bring. About the maintenance, I already have more garden than I can keep up with. As I said, the reason I'm in such a hurry now is because I want to get the heavy work done while my husband can still do it: we need to dig our holes NOW, and afterwards the lilacs can grow in peace. I don't see why I shouldn't be pruning roses, pulling grass, and repotting plants when I'm eighty. My desire has always been a low-maintenance garden, without watering system, elaborate fertilizing regimen, or plants that require a significant amount of work on an ongoing basis. Peonies are my kind of plant: once you've dug the holes and planted them, you're basically done forever. I work on getting the soil in good condition and then planting it with plants that will grow well, protect each other, suffocate weeds, and so on: I'm working on creating a relatively stable ecosystem. Obviously it will never be completely labor free, being a garden, but I think I can make a garden that will be able to stand up to some neglect. My garden isn't a financial investment: the money comes from income that's there to spend, not out of retirement savings. I'm like cweathersby: my money goes to the garden, and most of the garden money goes for plants. My clothes come from Goodwill, and I shop there on half price day. The car we drive is the worst wreck in the township. I don't care: what matters to me are the hyacinths I planted years ago that come up faithfully, and to my surprise appear to be seeding as well. I didn't know hyacinths did that. The peonies that are budding now, the snow crocuses that have somehow spread down into the big garden, the wildish area where the Viburnum burkwoodii is getting ready to flower and where the wild hellebore we transplanted two years ago has caught and is growing. The garden is a possible source of future income, all the same. I think it can be a workable display and teaching garden, something our province can really use. I'd hope to earn at least enough money to hire help now and then to keep the garden going. I don't believe I'm going to starve in old age, but I have no expectations of even relative affluence. The garden is an investment in another sense: when I can no longer afford to buy many new plants, I'll have a good supply of material to swap for plants, and to give as gifts. If you can give, you're rich. A final word about bulldozed gardens. Human life is full of waste: I realize this when I see old abandoned houses and barns around here that are fine examples of brick- and stonework and that are collapsing because no one has any use for them any more. Lord help us, just think of war. Yes, my garden may meet a dreary end one day--or it may not--but does that mean it wasn't worth doing? And not just for my own joy. I profoundly believe that my garden is not just for me: I certainly don't deserve such a large and magnificent share of the world's largesse. I don't want to be like the giant who chased all the children out of his beautiful garden so he could enjoy it all on his own. I give cuttings and rooted plants, bits of succulents, bulbs and iris tubers. Even if my garden is destroyed (and maybe they'll miss some of the better hidden parts), it will live on in other people's gardens. When someone comes to visit the garden and see plants she's never heard of, or roses such as she didn't know existed, or a style of gardening that she didn't know was possible--carries those memories away and perhaps puts some of them into practice in her own patch of ground--my garden will live. Permanence--immortality--call it what you will--is not the issue: the patient, fatiguing, and often frustrating cultivation of goodness and honesty and beauty is. To quote Dickens, who is writing about a man's death at the end of a rightly lived life: "It is not that the hand is heavy and will fall down when released; it is not that the heart and pulse are still; but that the hand WAS open, generous, and true; the heart brave, warm, and tender; and the pulse a man's. Strike, Shadow, strike! And see his good deeds springing from the wound, to sow the world with life immortal!" As the actions of the good man live after his death, so the shared garden will never die. Melissa

Things I have learned my first year wintersowing??? 1. There is always someone on this site who can answer your question no matter what. 2. Only plant the seeds that you really want, because everything will germinate. 3. Marigold seedlings do not like frost. 4. When planting out, don't let a certain friend help you (that way the plant markers will make it to the same place as the plant) 5. Separate the garden from the dog... or you will end up with just the dog. 6. Grow veggies that family members enjoy, and they will help you maintain the garden 7. Don't keep track of stuff on an old laptop. That way when your laptop crashes, you don't lose all of your info. 8. Don't plan too much...wintersowing gives you way more plants than you ever plan on.

First off I'm not a gardener. Were your existing large bins filled as batch or continuous? If batch, I am going to expect a 50-60% reduction in volume by the time it's finished. If continuous, not so much reduction as some has already taken place. Is your garden for vegetables? I've heard that veggies are more demanding of nutrients and stuff. Do you till a lot? As it is your bins have a volume of 16 CY or so if filled. Shrinkage could take that down to as low as 8 CY or so but more likely into the 12 CY range. To cover a garden of your size with 1 inch of finished compost you would need just over 13 CY of finished compost. One inch doesn't sound like a lot but it should be sufficient if the compost has decent numbers and the garden soil wasn't dead to begin with. And with 5 of 7 years having compost added I would suspect your garden is in pretty decent shape. I don't think even 2 inches would cause any harm but it might be more than you require. Your compost ingredients sound fine to me with the caveat that the HM came from healthy animals. Lloyd

Stage Rat, thanks so much. I googled it and that is what it is. I will go right out and dig it up. I don't want those in my flower beds. I wish all my flowers looked that healthy though. I forgot to mention lesons learned about which containers worked best for me. My favorite is the round containers that I get cakes or cookies in (also an excuse to buy them). I make newspaper pots, and they are so much easier to plant out than to try and get the babies out of a milk bottle or 2L bottle. I think the newspaper helps the soil also. I tear off the top as I am dropping them in the hole so that they don't wick away the water. All of mine that were planted that way are doing the best. Also, I put a small water bottle in the center and use plastic shower caps (16 for $1) from the dollar store on top of them--it works great. The second favorite is the 1/2 size stem table aluminum pans from Sam's. The shower cap fits on them also with a small water botter to hold it off the babies. I think I will learn many more lessons from the responses to this thread. Thanks again for helping me ID the plant. Also thanks to everyone who shared their lessons learned. It is a great help. Jeane