“It’s in the home or urban garden, where the effort you put into your soil can not only be felt in your hands and back, but also be tasted on the plate.”
– Matthew Evans

The sky above me is cloudless, and although there is still frost on the ground, the sun holds a promise of heat. There is not a breath of wind, making it the perfect day for burning the lavender and rock rose cuttings that have been accumulating over the last week or two. Winter brings many gifts – swathes of green I cut with my lawnmower to add as the nitrogen component of my compost heap, and the ability to make biochar from various pruning jobs I busy myself with.

I feel both alive and at peace working outside on these windless winter days. After spending most of my time in the UAE indoors, I revel in every moment I get to spend outdoors on the quinta and actively search out chores outside suiting every type of weather condition.

Since learning about the benefits of making and applying biochar to soil in April, I was keen to make my own, but the last of the olive prunings had to wait through summer and most of autumn for enough material to accumulate, before I could try my hand at making my first batch of biochar. At least I like to call it biochar, but I’m sure the purists may argue that my method is questionable at best. I reassure myself that even if it is not scientifically perfect, I at least am transforming huge amounts of organic material I have to process somehow anyway, into something that will be more beneficial to the soil than simply adding it to my compost heap.

I have two places where I burn and make biochar. One is a pit or earth kiln Tim dug for me with his excavator and by hand to get the correct 1:2 ratio. It isn’t very big, but certainly big enough for the amount of material I regularly accumulate. The first one is near the well and a tap, where I can properly douse the biochar in water once it is done. The only problem is that it is far from where I am currently pruning the lavender and rock roses, so I have created my own version of a pit where I can burn these. It is not the correct shape or ratio, but it is practical, and I do get charcoal and ashes that can be used regardless of how perfect they are.

Although biochar has become a buzz word, it is as old as humans had a relationship with fire. We would, in all likelihood, never know when the usefulness of charcoal was discovered, but when archaeological excavations confirmed the existence of enormous cities in the Amazon, where the soil is too poor to sustain their existence, archaeologists also discovered what they termed terra preta soil.  

The inhabitants of these large cities made use of the remnants of cooking fires – ashes and charcoal, to mix in with excrement. Not only did it neutralize the smell, but also killed germs. This was then mixed in with other organic matter and waste material, before it was added to where they grew their food. Over time (around 1000 years), the soil became more and more productive, and rendered it a deep, rich, black colour. Hence the name terra preta – black earth.

Living in a time when the world’s topsoil – that layer in which we grow all our food – is running out, it has become vital to find ways in which we can enrich the soil, instead of further depleting it. Turns out that if we keep growing our food using the same methods we’ve been using over the last century, we only have about 60 years of topsoil left in the world, as the rate in which soil is lost is 30-40 times faster than it can be replenished.

It is statistics like these that inform the way we engage with our piece of land. Perhaps even more so than the desire I have to grow food that is organic and more nutrient dense than what can buy in the supermarket. The more I read and understand about the incredible world that exists in soil, but is hardly visible to the naked eye, the more I am motivated to find ways in which to benefit and increase the health of the soil on our land.

But I wasn’t gifted with a science brain, nor am I inclined to a desire to know every single fact about the various tasks I need to engage in to practice my version of regenerative farming. Too many facts tend to bog me down and fill me with fear. Fear of not knowing enough, or doing something wrong in the process, can become so overwhelming that I simply walk away from a chore or a task. Like most things in my life, I’ve managed to cobble together an approach that works for me. First, I make sure that I have just enough knowledge of any given topic to get me started, and then I jump into the task without giving it too much thought beyond the immediate practicalities. I trust that nature is more intelligent than I am, and that through doing something, I will learn and refine what I need to know and do in a practical manner.

After a season with very good results from my no-dig vegetable garden, I am convinced that it is the best way to grow vegetables, which means I need lots and lots of compost. Preferably good compost, but as the science behind it can be overwhelming to me, I simply started my first compost heap, when I arrived on the quinta 14 months ago, as a means of getting rid of household organic matter, which I layered with green grass cuttings and brown organic matter. In an imperfect ratio at best. I also never managed to get the compost heap to be warm, or thermophilic, but although it took longer, when I had a peek a couple of weeks ago, it has composted beautifully, and is almost ready to use.

Every life or piece of land has different ingredients available, and one isn’t better than another. The secret lies in how to best make use of what we have to serve the bigger vision we hold.

My biochar arsenal of facts (as I understand them rightly or wrongly) I keep in mind and make use of:
# The design of both a Kon-Tiki metal kiln or an earth kiln uses the same 1:2 ratio (depth:width) with the sides at a 60° angle, but there are many different ways of making biochar.
# Biochar isn’t a fertiliser, but because of its large surface area, it provides an ideal environment for microorganisms to flourish, carry plant nutrients, and increase the soil’s ability to retain water.
# Biochar is essentially charcoal that has been fired for so long that it won’t reburn, because the tree oils are gone.
# It is important to activate biochar. There are many different ways of activating it, which can include urine, worm tea or castings, but I mix it in with grass clippings at a 1:1 ratio, before adding it to my current compost heap. I have also added it to my almost ready to use compost heap with some extra horse manure, before I wetted and covered it again.
# It shouldn’t be added in big pieces as it doesn’t biodegrade and stays in its current form for millennia, so as I understand it, the finer the better. My first additions to my compost heaps were small chunks, but I have seen it ground down to a powder, which is perhaps my next step, or at least I will be aiming for something in between.
# We don’t have livestock yet, but it is definitely how I will make use of it when we do. As it is a great deodorizer, it is perfect to spread on the floor of a chicken coop, and replenish it as needed. It will not only neutralize the smell, but mixed in with the chicken manure, and allowed to compost when it is removed from the coop, it can be used alone, or mixed in with other compost. The same approach is said to work well mixed in with the bedding for sheep or cows.
# When added to compost it should only make up between 10-30% of the total volume.
# There is a lot of talk about the harmful effects of carbon these days, but that is when it is in the air, not in the soil. In the soil it is a valuable asset, and biochar is a great way to put carbon back into the soil.

Why I am adamant to follow a no-till/no-dig approach on the land:
It is argued that the use of the plough, up to roughly the 1950s, was the single biggest emitter of human-induced carbon into the atmosphere – bigger even than coal and oil up to that point. What is more, by ploughing or digging over the soil we also ruin an enormous ecosystem underground we are not even aware of. Worst of all, the long invisible strands of fungal matter, called hyphal threads that facilitate the exchange of nutrients and communication, is severed. The thing we most probably don’t understand is that what we do to the soil, we essentially do to ourselves.

Further Reading:
# Soil: The Incredible Story of what Keeps the Eart, and us, Healthy – Matthew Evans
# Various Articles on the Ithaka Institute Website
# If you are in the US, you can buy biochar products from Pacific Biochar

Portuguese Words:
terra – earth/soil/homeland
lavanda – lavender
esteva – rock rose
composto – compost

Written by:  Jolandi