Gardener conduct and ethics

A few years back, whiles teaching in person classes, we had a couple of fights break out between students. This happened while working outdoors in the garden. Gus and myself were a little bit surprised. Gus had the puzzled knit brow expression, almost confused face. I cannot say that I expected such things in a landscaping class, but tried my best to bring the tension down a notch and avoid folks getting injured. If you must know, the fights revolved around males who did not want to be told what to do by each other… And that sort of thing escalates real quick when you have metal tools in your hands, some blood and hormones running in the vessels, and any latent boredom or frustration that needs to be vented.

Gus, in his forty-five years plus teaching here at CCSF, had not encountered such things before. Hey! This is a college class! This is gardening! No fighting allowed! You would think that would be obvious, that working together and respecting each other was a given. But somewhere along the line, that was not part of the curriculum anymore, or perhaps students did not get that lesson growing up. Gus would say, “They don’t teach common sense anymore” and I would agree.

As as result of the incidents, we made a basic set of rules for our classes that we passed around. We also tacked in the rules some other trends we noticed that needed a bit of correction. It was a time when smart phones became popular. The document was a bare bones basic document that looked like this:

Well things changed a little bit after that, and at least we had no more fighting. In the end, I think Gus and myself tend towards the inspire-from-within school rather than the enforce externally school of training. Gardening best learned by example founded in good will, rather than lessons based on fear and punishment.

It did get me thinking about our conduct and ethics in the garden, as well as any guiding philosophy that may bear upon the topic. As Gus says, sometimes, as a gardener for residential clients, you almost become a member of the family. After all, you often have keys to the yard if not the house. You occupy a position of trust. You are a professional. As a gardener for the city, you are an essential worker for parks and public spaces where anybody can ‘be’. In these places lies the health of the community and society, and you are its guardian and caretaker. You can behave honorably because you have a GPS tracker on your truck, a supervisor watching you with binoculars from across the street, and hidden cameras strapped to the trees. Or you can behave honorably because there is something inside that keeps you motivated and happy to serve.

A professional gardeners group used to meet here at City College. It was made up of landscapers who wanted to network, and pass on knowledge. Many established contractors would all come to attend the once a month Thursday night meetings. We encourage you all to join and to pass on the tradition. This here is their mission and code of ethics to adhere to:

There are a few other professions that are closely linked to our jobs as gardeners and horticulturists. Ranchers, hunters, loggers and farmers all come to mind. Jobs that require us to extract something from the earth. Work that entails working outdoors, a certain amount of risk, and the honoring of a reciprocal relationship. They must all surely have a code or rules to live by…

Maybe it was the reading of Empire of the Summer Moon about the Comanche chief Quanah Parker, or reading Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry, or perhaps watching Quigley down under starring Tom Selleck on Netflix. Anyhow, got on a cowboy journey. Ranchers and cowboys have got to know the plants too, plants that the livestock feed on; this is called range management. So I googled up the cowboy code. Its kinda sparse on the details with regards to cattle roping and braiding lariats, but sure does summarize well the basics and the lifestyle. Some of these codes are the same ones that gardeners live by:

Something that you will overcome as you engage in gardening, or maybe not overcome but at least tolerate and get used to, is death. Death in nature to be specific. Its happening all the time and you are a part of it. You kill weeds, kill bugs, kill gophers and mice, and accidentally cull or kill plants you meant to cultivate. It is all a part of the job. Perhaps you cultivated the soil and exposed all the worms and beetles, then in comes the robin and sparrow to feast. So you inadvertently caused the death of all those creatures as well, by opening the way for opportunistic little birds. You can feel really bad about it and try to find another line of work that does not have such an intimate connection to nature. Or you can reconcile yourself to being a part of the natural world and make up for it in some way. By sharing the harvest, by making a flower bouquet for a friend, or by making some kinda offering to the earth – say a fish head chunk of fertilizer or a bucket of manure. Thinking and meditating about death, that is something hunters do. What is a hunter’s code? I wondered… Found this one online, seems I cant get away from Texas:

Down by my friend’s cattle ranch south, he hosts hunters who come to hunt pigs and deer and squirrels and quails and turkeys and rabbits. This is his sign in the trailer with regards to hunting rules. I much like it because it is honest, emphasizes safety and personal responsibility, and lists real actions, not ambiguous philosophical type words:

As gardeners, farmers are similar to us. While we deal in smaller plots of land that may be strictly ornamental, or that require more intensive attention, farmers usually deal with land on a larger scale. And production is the main thing, not so much access and cleanliness, as it is in town. Farming is one of those activities that needs many people to work together; it forms the foundation of all cultures. The farmer’s code I found belonged to a club based out of Australia, in Molong New South Wales, attributed to Robert Stephens:

I was introduced to another farmer while going to dojo in San Diego. He was a rice farmer whose name was Morihei Ueshiba aka O’sensei. He was also a Japanese martial artist post World War II who modified jiu jitsu, merged it with the nature spirits of Shinto religion, and made it a path to arrive at peace. The dojo was filled with Navy folks from Coronado. I asked, “ Don’t y’all get this training in the military?” They said, “Nope, thats why we are here.” Heard that situation is changed now, but back in the day there was a whole lot of sweaty gi outfits and kiai kiai kiai sounding off of Ocean Beach. On the tatami mats mopping up afterwards is where you learn catchy phrases like ‘many hands make light work’ and ‘when we help each other, we all move up together’. For sure have to thank Sensei Tom and Senpai Ben. The code I found was for samurais, the warrior code. In Japanese it is bushido:

Do you know what DO in juDO, hapkiDO, aikiDO mean? Or TAO or DAO? It means the way, the road, the path. Judo is the gentle path, hapkido and aikido are the paths to become one with the energy and forces of our universe. We are talking about a relationship with nature, the nature outside as well as the nature and turmoil within.

How did this essay become about the way and martial arts?! Sigh. Must be from watching the sequels of Karate Kid called Cobra Kai with kids of this generation. Distracting tangents! Well let’s go back to gardening, and try to provide some worthwhile structure and discipline for this next cohort. Heres a basic set of rules for the semester. Keepin’ it short and sweet:

This all goes back a long ways. Hunters horticulturists gatherers farmers. These are the original old time professions that stretch back to the beginning of humanity and extend into the future infinity. You, as a gardener, is a living link and it is a great community to be a part of. For me, to be a gardener is the best thing in all the world! Welcome to landscape horticulture, maintenance & care, class OH 53. Now, enough chit chat and blah blah blah, to work!

Random notes

The best thing about studying plants is that they are everywhere

they make life interesting and worth noticing cause they come in infinite forms and variations

even when theres no blooms its fun to touch some stems, rub some leaves, and look at the ground at your feet

This here is a random collection of botanical notes thats been simmering

Guess we’ll start at the botanical garden

gardener mentioned that there was a tree in decline in South Africa section Cape Province

worth a look and be nice to propagate it, if it is the last one around

so maybe you walk by the same corner a thousand times

but pay no attention to the trees or creatures around you

then you’re like ‘wow I have never seen you before, what have I been doing?’

that was my reaction, so I said hi to the tree named Widdringtonia

it was labeled and everything, bed number clear and easy to see right there

that plunged me into an investigation of its cones, its seeds, and its nearest relatives

following this little branch of a family of trees

Turns out the cypress family is divided into seven subfamilies

Almost all of them I had shook hands with once or twice, or at least known a close cousin or two

even grown a bunch of little seedlings of swamp cypress from New Orleans and dawn redwoods from China

but this one subfamily, I had no clue, absolutely nothing on em

they from the southern hemisphere where they are looking up at the southern cross not the north star

lucky research is easy these days and I pulled up most of their weird names

folks that go by  Diselma and Libocedrus and Papauacedrus

well the botanical garden is organized by the curators into beds with numbers

that way you know what you got, where

I found just a few members of this subfamily called Callitroideae scattered here and there

then tried to organize it a little bit in my mind for that dream expedition to parts unknown

tropic of capricorn, cape of good hope, or the guinea highlands full of pigs and taro

but the journey starts here, in the botanical garden

I challenge you to go and look for em all, as many as you can find

Callitroideae

Few weeks back was wandering in northern california, picking up burnt chunks of madrone, greeting the fresh oak leaf resprouting from the bases

and scouting for animals

does anybody else like to do ground botany?

like botanize just from following deer trails and eyes pegged on the fallen things of the world?

no need to look up, just scan back and forth at dirt and poo and footprints

no need for pretty flowers or colored leaves, just enjoying the dead brown stuff you step on

after processing, this was came out of the smoker

Along the lines of things insignificant and not noticed

or creatures so common you forget about or dismiss

or objects with parts so similar you like ‘blah they all the same’

is the family of plants called grasses Poaceae

alright I love this family more than almost any other

but I suck at identifying them just no good at it

not sure if its the patience that is lacking or the basic lazy nature inherent within

anyways did jot down some notes for a training I did while working for the government twenty years back, thought I’d share it with you and dedicate it to other novices like myself

the best place to start learning about anything is always right close to home

lets see if any of you know where this is, and can notice the little clumps of perennial native grasses nestled within the stands of annual rattlesnake grass

The bonus picture is something else that is emerging already out of its dormant summer slumber 

(its december and theres only been one rain, still there it goes…)

a plant that is useful as soap or as a fish poison in olden indian times

10 points extra credit if you can guess what it is…

In the end it always seems to come back to the earth and the land

that is what keeps us grounded

had these couple of illustrations for a video on magnolias

somehow they did not make it into the cut, so they are here 

one is the explanation for the the chinese characters that make up magnolia, mu and lan

just like the disney character

and the second is a geographical explanation of province (like states) names in china

so instead of awkward sounding words like bing fang lang nang fing fong ching chong

a little translation helps understanding

you can see the layout of the country and likely major geographical features

if anything it reminds me of indian tribe names here in california

where cool words like Yurok or Karuk just mean down river or up river

the river full of salmon that is, and grizzlies fishing on the banks

what is in a name anyways after all?

is it something someone else calls you, or something you call yourself

not sure…

Super patient gentleman Joey lent me a book by Greg Sarris called Weaving the dream. A book about a pomo indian weaver named Mabel McKay. After I read it got all itchy inside and couldn’t stomach it. The concepts were so so so so indian. How else to describe it? Luckily there was a blank canvas in the garage and I could vomit out a review in colors. I used these color markers by a company named posca. You can paint real fast with them but I am limited in any ability to blend or mix or brush like with tubes of goopy paint. Plus there was no orange in the box, just mostly all primary type colors. So if the picture is a little gaudy sorry about that. If it was too rushed sorry about that too, just seems scenes these days running by at clip neck pace and if I pause, ten years pass. Hence got to make the best of a few hours of clarity or inspiration.

If you want to understand how to weave a dream of your own, you actually have to read the book. No substitute for stories first hand second hand. This just a few of the elements I remember from it while digesting.

There was a part about a white snake in the river. Some kinda all powerful spirit creature that probably gives birth to life itself as it sleeps and breathes creation. In chinese mythology there is a white snake who can change into a human; she is like really scary and evil. Real pretty, real bad news. Then there is the band whitesnake from the 70’s. There was just too much baggage with the white snake, so I made it red white and blue. Red white and blue snake river. Mabel’s work floats in the river of dreamscape time that is why theres apples and a basket in there. If I biffed up the basket in terms of its authenticity and details I apologize to the old time indian tribes that could tell the difference between north and south and riverine and upland basketry. Us newcomers can hardly tell the difference between a rush and a sedge, much less the difference between the thickness of the roots seasonally, or be able to compare the ease of splitting from one patch to the next.

On the right side of the river is the wet side, the watershed side, the shady side, and also the side packed with rattle snakes in this painting. In the story the rattle snake comes as a helper to assist in medicine doctoring duties. Rattle snakes everywhere, that is awesome! But of course the white folks do not appreciate this and do not understand. Besides the Christian motif of snake as pure evil that got us all thrown out of the garden of eden, there is the very practical aspect that rattle snakes are poisonous and you do not want them around. That is why I killed most of them with garden implements of farmers and ranchers. But I did leave one of them to live, the really short stubby fat one in the front. Can’t help it, really do appreciate snakes. Same like with sharks or ling cods or coyotes and things, just great fascinating creatures. So in amongst all this blood and snakes I planted the angelica root medicine that old timers smoke, to balance the chi so to speak.

On the left is the open exposed lit dry side of the valley that turned to gated cattle ranches of annual grasslands after the oaks and indians and acorns were swept away. But down by the river and the flat muds theres still patches of basketry materials like sedge and willow and rush too. The hills become sidestepped with parallel line trails from cows and geology, the edges lined with barb wire. In the dreamscape, these are the round and round and round spirals of a coiled basket. If you could see the hills turned upside down you will realize that the landscape is baskets all baskets, spirit all spirit nothing more nothing less. As a reminder of this, hummingbird is there, full of motion, in a standstill as a flying cross. Of course no landscape is all pure and good and without danger. In the story theres plenty of weird crazy bent out of shape spirits that inhabit our realm. Seemingly for no reason – angry frustrated lost and disenchanted spy like beings out to destroy the world. So I painted them there crouched in the hills, a salamander fish thing and a spider antennae thing. Was tempted to put them in cages or stab them with picks but thought it best to just leave them be.

In back of the valley lies the flat mesa of a hill of a basket that is draining rivers and getting pounded drenched by a thunder storm of epic proportions. Lightning and flash and kaboom kaboom thundering action. Somehow in this story people and weather phenomenon are intimately connected by electricity and mana. So when good and significant people die, the sky actually sheds tears or undergoes an emotional train wreck of a transformation. Pretty wild stuff, I agree. At the base of the mesa is a lake, probably shallow Clear Lake where blue gill and bass roam chasing after little teeny bait fish. Very likely a good spot to gather materials for weaving, and chat with the neighboring tribes.

Atop the mesa is the silvery clouds of the storm and a red sky full of moon. Slow drift paste of thin clouds sheathing the bright white glare of her surface. And nestled within the clouds, there can be only one thing – a roundhouse full of indians dancing and singing and making jokes, dreaming everyday into existence.

Hahahhaha. C’est tout fini! Or perhaps just beginning…

Usually this chapter, I show this painting I made called our Lady of Black’s Beach and tell the story of how Maui was cracked in half by Hine-Nui-Te-Po when he tried to swim up her birth canal. Then go into detail about Dave the Tank marginalies or Bruce the Barbinskate, Jack the lego maniac and Bob the seal who lives with Corona the dog in a shack at Rosarito Mexico by the power plant and taco stands and ship wreck in the line up. That painting is about the landscape called the mother ocean. But I have already told a few surf stories and try not to be repetitious.

Then there is a painting about the mojave desert called Zzyzx, a scene of a lump of a hill named San Bruno Mountain, a gathering in the forest that goes by mendocino woodlands, and the rainforest we visited for our honey moon by the river of secoya territory. All different kinds of landscape designs with distinct feels.

Well never did tell y’all about this painting called Alcoina. Its kinda rough in a way, not sure I ever really finished it, but good enough to tell a story by so here goes:

Theres a little town in the south of spain. That is where my wife’s family is from. She got a mom, a dad, and five brothers and sisters. She the littlest one.

Theres town, and theres country. Town is the church called san juan where all the celebrations and memorials go down and loquat tree and roses out front. Streets are narrow of hand laid pebbles and cobbles that barely fit a fiat or a citroen or a seat with pelargoniums hanging on the walls. Past the hardware store is a yellow colored convent with brick columns and some young adults rolling a cigarette of hash and tobacco across the street. Theres a central gathering space called the alameda where after dinner when its cooled off you go for a walk and see everybody out and about. Go back and forth chatting gossiping while kids are running circles around the canes and walkers and horses with braided tails. Adolescents roaming in packs and courting or chillin’ at a sit down at the burger joint.

Country is woods of pines planted by general franco and understory of feral pig tracks and limestone. In the clearings theres rosemary and thyme and rock rose and wild carnations. Fields of esparto grass punctuated by asphodeles and teucrium or a clump of palmitos chamaerops. Reminds me of cali with the big oaks, but add some carob trees and figs, and an escaped pomegranate bush or two or three. And the bright orange of a persimmon come december.

Water comes down as rainfall in the winter, running through the mountains and popping up in fountains all the way through town. Some of it runs in creeks, creeks filled with giant reed grass. Giant reed grass farmers cut to make stakes and trellises for their tomato crop. Some of the water runs in irrigation canals, of concrete construction with movable gates and valves introduced by the moors way back. Flood irrigation for hard corn and orange groves. By the canals next to the roads, its annual displays of wild pink snapdragon conejitos and red poppies and blue purple trachelium.

Besides fig, orange, and lemon trees, a couple of other trees stand out. One is the canary island phoenix palm with its majestic stature and robust form. The other is of course the olive trees that dot the hills, pruned short and squat, with ancient trunks and hardy yet fine foliage. Introduced by roman armies way back, and happy to stay.

The architecture is a mix. Its got the thick white walls of lime and interiors of sierran rocks and clay mud from river bottoms. The arches are north african middle eastern, the tile motifs are muslim, the theme is geometrical and repetitious mathematical. African is only about 9 miles away, after all.

In late january february the first blooms of the year arrive. They belong to the white and pink flowers of the almonds. They burst like sprays of phosphorescent seas all over the landscape.

Every easter, a week before sunday, every neighborhood decorates a big ol cross eight nine feet tall full of flowers. Its placed in the middle of the street and people and petals are scattered all around it. Streets are strewn and decorated with the pinnate leaves of palms. Usually the cross is made of carnations in red, or in white. It is like a competition but not really, just each group of ladies showing pride and joy, bound by the theme of resurrection. There is the Jesus statue too, in the alameda, another cross blended with the symbols of death and rebirth and renewal that spring brings.

Later, in may, is the romeria. That is when the whole town dresses up fancy and walks the two three miles outside of town to greet and receive the tiny little virgin statue hidden in a cave, found by the farmer and shepherds. That is why you see the bull dressed up in his best gear and the two brothers too, Antonio and Pepe. They are there to prod the bull along and do their work as the mamporero. My wife has three older sisters, they are there too. One is a politician activist name Ana, another is a botanist poet named Aurora, and the last is a great mom and grandma and baby sitter and cook and all around busy body named Isabel. Mom Maria is in the upper left, doing her flamenco thing with the tamborine sun, and dad Sebastian is on the right with the arching moorish moon, he is guardia civil and marine. But I mounted him on a donkey since I really like donkeys and isnt that how jesus went into jerusalem?

The whole design is a play on opposites – town and country, male and female, brother and sister, mom and dad, cultivated and wild, christian and muslim, water and earth, sun and moon, light and dark.

Thats about it. Feeling thirsty, I’m gonna go pick some grapes hanging off the top of dome, or catch a drink at the fountain with Loli.

Happy thanksgiving!

Hedges and lawns

Around here, most hedges are made of boxwood, or privet

dodoneae or podocarpus fern pine

pittosporum is popular too

or on occasion – griselinia and escallonia.

Gas station hedges are made of raphiolepis.

Look under the hedges for the irrigation spray heads or drip lines or soaker hoses

Oftentimes, there isn’t any

in clay soils, these plants require no additional irrigation once established.  

That is the key – once established.

For most shrubby woody plants in the clay loam soils

it can take two or three years of winter rains and intermittent summer irrigation

for the roots to sink down wide and deep, and for it to be well grounded

after that happens, you can come by once every couple of months to shear it to shape

and it does not seem to mind

it resprouts a wall of greenery right away without any problems

cause it has reserves, cause its embedded in the landscape

it helps that these plants

often have small waxy leaves somewhat resistant to desiccation

it helps that these plants originate from places with much much hotter summers

compared to a foggy coastal place like san francisco

if these shrubs are growing in the west side, in the sand

perhaps in the lean of a shadow of a house

they can still get by with no additional supplementary irrigation

they might get a little stressed after four or five months of dry weather

drop some leaves, turn a wee bit red or yellow

but they usually pull through alright

If they are established

and the rains come

aside from the usual suspects

there are a number of other plants that fit the criteria of a useful hedge

plants that grow a thick and full bush of smallish leaves

plant that sprout out readily even when cut back, even to bare wood

Plants that do not go leggy and tree-like and lanky on you

plants that are uniform and green green green all year round

What you don’t want as a hedge plant 

is a plant that is finicky and temperamental after a hedging operation

some leafy parts go vigorously nutty

while a whole nuther section just dies, leaving a gaping hole

Those plants you want to avoid, they are no good as hedges, better in their own natural shape

Ceanothus is one of those:

A few other drought tolerant plant choices (once established) are:

True myrtle Myrtus communis.  Can you guess where this is?

Eleagnus umbellata is another great plant. The silvery leaves, plus the edible berries for jam. What is not to like about autumn berry?

Africa boxwood Myrsine africana shown here with Myrica California in the background and Quercus agrifolia in the foreground on the side.  In our cloud garden.

Way old stand by from forty fifty years ago Juniperus communis.  All along Teresita.

Heres an interesting specimen. Leptospermum scoparium as some kind of a sidewalk bonsai hybrid hedge thing.  We’ll just say that it may have potential.

Breath of heaven Coleonema pulchra. 

Like all hedges, gotta stay on top of em.  If you fall asleep with Rip Van Winkle,  the plant grows tall & wide.  Then when you prune it hard down to all bare wood, it may live, or it may go into shock and die.  Or it will die back in sections here and there, and there goes your full green hedge concept out the window.  So like mowing the lawn – be consistent and keep trimming trimming and trimming on a regular basis.  Dont take off too much in one hit.  Do not neglect it.

Hedges – a living wall, a breathing border, a wave of greenery

pretty neat garden sculpture

a sculpture that comes back to life as soon as you’re done with your role as a gardener

Around here, most lawns are like mutts

they are a mix of plant species

if you go to the golf course or the lawn bowling green

theres patches of pure good sod – all fescue, or all bent grass

but most other ‘lawns’, at least in open public places

All full of daisies clover dandelions plantain veronica cat’s ears

and the grasses are a mix of fescue and poa and bermuda and rye

if you are not a discerning turf expert, you probably don’t even notice its a mix

once it has been mowed to 1.5” tall

and its all trim and uniform

that is what you see, that is all you see – a carpet of green

It does take considerable water 

to keep the lawn green

like the hedge, we like the lawn to be green year round

if we did not water the lawn, it would  go dormant, dry, and brown

that is what happens to the grasses in nature, during the dry season

to keep it full of life, water that lawn

the green color  – its so soothing

Lets say you want a flat usable space, a patch of greenery

but not one made of water-hungry always needs to be mowed grass

What are the alternatives?  

What is another plant that you can 

Step on, lay on, walk on, roll around on?

And you say “No, I do not want round tiny gravel or artificial turf or decomposed granite or slabs of concrete or slate or flagstone with a weatherproof carpet on top.  I want something soft, something gentle”

A pretty tough ground cover is Dymondia margaritacaea

A friend in the east bay tore out the lawn, and knitted it back together with a native plant ground cover called Lippia repens.

Dichondra always shows up on these lists.  My experience is that with a little bit of walking on em, the leafy ears start to crumble and then its lights out. Left alone it is has solid coverage.  With interaction it gets patchy.

The following particular choice is controversial, both among the native plant activists and amongst some rank and file gardeners.  Arctotheca cape dandelion.  Some people say it is a ‘nonnative invasive weed’. It does have those ‘I’m gonna take over’ tendencies.  At the same time, it restricts itself to mostly wet soils and shady exposures.  That is to say, it does not rule in the south side, it does not do well in the uplands.  It is the boss, however, on the north side, and on the bottom of the slope where water gathers.  It completely replaced the CCSF entrance lawns on Phelan Avenue, and has persisted year after year after year.  Nope its not the lush paradise lawn manicured turf like at USF. But then again, it wins on a lot of other criteria, and our windy foggy commuter campus is not the kind of place where people are lounging around in designer gear. They are working! What do you think?  Reach for the round up?  Get out the rototiller?  Or leave it alone?  

There is some room for entrepreneurial spirit in the turf alternatives world.  I imagine a good second choice would be a meadow mixture comprised of say three to five different species of plants.  They would all be okay with mowing, and be more or less drought tolerant once established.  They’d be plants that are a little less needy with regards to fertilization and pest control.  Seeds could be sown in a flat, and grown up into a tight mudflat quilt ready to be transplanted or divided and grafted into the ground.  You would have to play with the water regime to figure out the evapotranspiration rate and the best watering schedule to keep it green, to let it establish.  Aside from the general mutt lawn mix of dicot broadleaves we already noted, there are many other possibilities to experiment with and dream up.

How do you irrigate something that needs water all throughout the dry season, and still be frugal and conserving?  You have to irrigate like the rain that comes down on everything everyone – drip drip drip drip drip in tiny little droplets.  Not gushin big spurts.  Nice and slow tick tick tick building to a crescendo storm of pelting drops.  Wet it all the way down down down.

Visualize the earth as a huge sponge with tiny tiny holes all over her.  To get in there, as water, you have to get tiny tiny too.  If you try to push your way in, but you are large and stuck to yourself, then you will not fit.  You will have to be fine and patient, that is the trick. Well plus it helps if the soil is not hydrophobic. Organic matter organic matter.