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What Does “Sow as Soon as Soil Can Be Worked” Mean Anyway?

hand full of friable soil

Every spring, gardeners across the Northern hemisphere receive the same back-o’-the-seed-packet advice: “Sow as soon as the soil can be worked.”

seed packet with the words "as soon as soil can be worked." underlined

Okay, that’s cryptically vague.

Workable how? I have a rototiller that could easily get the job done, even though I can’t do it by hand. Does that count?

The soil is pretty muddy, but I can still dig in it. Is that workable?

What if this part is frozen, but this part over here seems okay?

Many of the instructions parsed out on the back of seed packets take for granted that you’ve been at this for most of your adult life.

We’re not all mythical gardening beings who are one with the soil. Unfortunately, this lack of details unnecessarily complicates an activity that should otherwise be straightforward.

Yet, when asked to describe what this common bit of gardening instruction meant, even a few of the lifelong gardeners I know had a hard time coming up with something more than just repeating it.

“Well, ya know, it’s after the snow melts, and you can finally get in there and really…work the soil.”

Uh-huh. Clear as mud.

Sowing seeds should be both beginner-friendly as well as intuited by the average crusty old green thumb.

(Myself included among the crustier variety.)

Since my soil has reached that perfect seed packet descriptor, I thought we could see for ourselves what “workable” soil looks like. I’ll teach you an easy method of testing whether or not your soil is yet workable. And we’ll talk a bit about soil structure and what can happen if you work the soil too soon.

But first, I’ll share something funny with you to illustrate a point.

I have a dear friend in the UK who is also a gardener. He and I are constantly comparing notes on our growing season. Obviously, living where the ground never freezes solid, he has a hard time wrapping his brain around the concept. Without fail, every year while I’m still wading through snow, he’s asking if I’ve got anything planted yet.

I sent him this helpful video in early February to help, ah, ‘cement’ the idea of how different our growing climes are.

YouTube video

(He got a kick out of it.)

It’s been a month and a week since then, and my soil has changed drastically, which brings me to the first point I want to make: as spring progresses, soil conditions change rapidly, so you’ll want to poke around in your garden often to monitor your soil.

Even a week ago, most of my raised beds still had a central strip of frozen soil, even though the outer edges were technically ‘workable.’ (I didn’t plant anything then, and I’ll get to why when we talk about the soil structure.)

Now, I’m hanging out in short sleeves with perfectly workable soil, poking seeds in my garden.

Temperature

The first and most obvious sign that your soil is well on its way to becoming workable is the temperature. As the air temperature remains warmer, the soil follows suit.

Mulched raised bed with a toy cow and soil thermometer
Look, I can’t help it if you don’t have a bestie who buys you goofy cow figurines to put in your garden.

A few years ago, I purchased several of these handy little soil thermometers. I leave them poked into the soil year-round. I have a couple in my raised beds and a couple in my flower beds. This allows me to monitor soil temperatures in the spring, so I know when the ground is no longer frozen, but also when the soil is warm enough for certain seeds to germinate. (Usually a minimum of 45F-55F for most cool weather crops.)

They’re also great in the height of summer, so I know when the soil around my tomatoes is hot enough that I need to add shade cloth.

Friable

Hand digging hole in the dirt

I’m going to teach you one of my favorite gardening words: friable. It’s such a wonderful-sounding word. It’s a pity it’s used to describe dirt. Nonetheless, that’s the kind of dirt we’re looking for. Friable soil is mostly dry, is easily squeezed into a lightly compacted ball, but will crumble apart easily with the brush of your fingers.

Friable soil is that workable soil we’re waiting for in the spring.

You can easily test whether your soil is friable by gently digging a few inches below the surface, then scooping some of the soil into your hand. Give it a light, quick squeeze. The soil should hold its shape, but crumble when brushed apart or dropped again.

You can see it in action here.

YouTube video

I suppose we should be thankful that all those seed packets went with ‘workable’ rather than ‘friable’ or we’d all really be confused! But yes, when your soil has warmed at 45F and above and is friable, you’re ready to get gardening.

Soil Structure = Soil Health

Hand on dirt
The soil even feels nice and crumbly as I run my hand over it. (Don’t judge me, I’ve waited all winter to play in the dirt.)

Technically, some of the soil around the outer edges of my raised beds was ready to go last week. But the center of each bed was still frozen solid. Rather than pushing my luck, I knew I would be doing my soil a favor if I waited for the entire thing to thaw and dry out.

Good soil structure plays an important role in how easy or hard it is to get things to grow in your soil.

Soil with a healthy structure is comprised of a good mix of organic materials and sand. It has tiny little air pockets throughout the soil, which leave space for the transmission of water and nutrients to your plants. Good soil structure makes it easier for plant roots to penetrate deeply to access water deep underground.

This is a big reason why we’re fans of no-dig gardening around here. The less we disturb the soil with things like tilling and walking all over it, the healthier the structure.

Good Soil Structure Means You Can Plant Sooner

If you have that fantastic, well-draining soil with a good mix of organic matter, then it naturally drains and dries out faster in the springtime, which means you can start planting sooner. Heavy, compacted soil, or soil with a lot of clay, takes much longer to drain and dry out and be ready to be worked.

You can improve the structure of your soil by adding quality compost (organic matter) and sand, and mixing it well. I’m a huge fan of reaching out to your local county extension office. They know your local soil better than anyone else and often already know what you need to add to improve it.

For instance, I live in the middle of Pennsylvania, and a quick call to my local extension office told me we have a lot of shale in our soil here. Naturally, when I started digging, this was easily, although annoyingly, confirmed. I also had really compacted soil, with dense pockets of clay. After years of struggling, I opted to go with raised beds, as it was much quicker to purchase good soil than to spend years amending the poor soil in my yard.

Working Soil Too Soon

It’s important not to work in soil that’s not ready yet. Usually, this means soil that is cold and still damp, even muddy. If you get in there and start digging around, aside from making a real mess, you end up compacting that nice soil structure we’re going for by not letting it dry out enough.

Hand squeezing muddy soil.
If your soil looks like this, it’s not ready. Give it a bit.

If you do this too often over the years, it can lead to hard, compacted soil in general.

Another issue with working the soil too soon is that you lose seeds. Over the years, I have let my impatience get the best of me, and I’ve sown seeds much too early. I would wait and wait and wait for the seeds to germinate, only to find that they had rotted in the cold, soggy soil.

Whereas, had I just patiently waited, by the time I realized my mistake, the soil would have been ready to go. I wasted more time and seeds than I care to admit on that over the years, but not anymore. These days, starting seeds indoors helps me scratch that green itch every early spring while I’m waiting for the soil to warm up, dry out and become workable.

Now you, too, can consider yourself a mythical gardening, crusty old green thumb, as you know what “when the soil becomes workable” means, and you’ve learned a beautiful word to describe it. May your spring be mild, your seeds germinate quickly, and your soil be friable soon!


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Tracey Besemer

Hey there, my name is Tracey. I’m the editor-in-chief here at Rural Sprout.

Many of our readers already know me from our popular Sunday newsletters. (You are signed up for our newsletters, right?) Each Sunday, I send a friendly missive from my neck of the woods in Pennsylvania. It’s a bit like sitting on the front porch with a friend, discussing our gardens over a cup of tea.

Originally from upstate NY, I’m now an honorary Pennsylvanian, having lived here for the past 18 years.

I grew up spending weekends on my dad’s off-the-grid homestead, where I spent much of my childhood roaming the woods and getting my hands dirty.

I learned how to do things most little kids haven’t done in over a century.

Whether it was pressing apples in the fall for homemade cider, trudging through the early spring snows of upstate NY to tap trees for maple syrup, or canning everything that grew in the garden in the summer - there were always new adventures with each season.

As an adult, I continue to draw on the skills I learned as a kid. I love my Wi-Fi and knowing pizza is only a phone call away. And I’m okay with never revisiting the adventure that is using an outhouse in the middle of January.

These days, I tend to be almost a homesteader.

I take an eclectic approach to homesteading, utilizing modern convenience where I want and choosing the rustic ways of my childhood as they suit me.

I’m a firm believer in self-sufficiency, no matter where you live, and the power and pride that comes from doing something for yourself.

I’ve always had a garden, even when the only space available was the roof of my apartment building. I’ve been knitting since age seven, and I spin and dye my own wool as well. If you can ferment it, it’s probably in my pantry or on my kitchen counter. And I can’t go more than a few days without a trip into the woods looking for mushrooms, edible plants, or the sound of the wind in the trees.

You can follow my personal (crazy) homesteading adventures on Almost a Homesteader and Instagram as @aahomesteader.

Peace, love, and dirt under your nails,

Tracey