The Devilstrand Dilemma: My Hydroponics Misadventure
So, there I was on a crisp Saturday morning, sipping my coffee and daydreaming about self-sufficiency. I’d been hearing a lot about this sci-fi-ish plant called devilstrand. If you’ve played RimWorld, you know what I’m talking about. This miraculous fungal fiber is all anyone in the colony ever talked about—lightweight and strong, yeah, but mostly, it seemed to be the holy grail of textile production. I thought, “Why not grow my own? How hard could it be?”
The Plan
I began my journey under the haphazard canopy of an old oak tree in my backyard, determined to build an aquaponics system. I’d read up on it, watched a few YouTube videos (you know the ones with overly chipper hosts who make it seem so easy), and felt inspired. I enlisted my kid, Charlie, mainly to distract him from his video games. We gathered supplies: an old plastic tote I found in the shed, a submersible pump I scored cheap at a garage sale, and some PVC pipes I had left over from a failed sprinkler system project.
Now, who wouldn’t think that they had everything they needed? I pictured lush greenery, thriving fish, and the sweet smell of success.
Building It Up
But oh boy, the reality was a different beast. It wasn’t long before I realized that while optimism counted for a lot, it sure didn’t grow devilstrand—or anything else for that matter.
We started by filling the tote with water and getting the pump running. “Look, Charlie! We’re like gardeners of the future!” I declared, while wrestling the pump into place. But, as the water churned, a faint whiff of, let’s just say, pond scum wafted up from the tote. Charlie scrunched his nose and declared, “Dad, this smells weird!” My heart sank, because I suddenly had visions of my neighbors peering over the fence in horror.
“Just a little algae bloom, no biggie,” I lied. But deep down, I knew I was teetering on the edge of something inelegant.
I thought I’d nailed it during the first week. I even visited the local gardening center and picked out some tilapia, imagining them darting around like they owned the place. Charlie was beside himself with excitement. “Look at them swim, Dad!” His laughter echoed through our tiny backyard.
Reality Sets In
But blissfully happy moments are often clouded by impending disaster. A week or so in, I noticed the water turning a concerning shade of green. I had read about nutrient imbalances but somehow dismissed it. “It’ll sort itself out,” I confidently told Charlie. You can probably guess how that story ended. One by one, the tilapia started to float belly up.
“Where did we go wrong?” Charlie asked, a bit too sharp for my liking.
“Maybe they need more aeration?” I suggested weakly, scratching my head. Luckily, I had a small air pump I had used years ago for an aquarium, which saved me some time. But, as I connected it to the system, I felt a pang of regret for the little fish.
With the pump chugging away, I turned back to the plants. I tried to grow everything—lettuce, herbs, even some tomatoes. I even attempted devilstrand, convinced that surely this miracle plant would grow in my lovely little aquaponics system.
The Heartbreaker
But it didn’t. The mushrooms I bought were already starting to wilt the second I brought them home. I kept expecting the little devilstrands to sprout upward, showing me that I was capable of agriculture. But every morning, I’d step outside, only to be greeted by barren soil and the nagging sensation of failure wrapping itself around my heart.
By now, you’re probably thinking, “Why didn’t you just give up?” Well, it crossed my mind, believe me. I visualized digging a hole and burying the whole wretched system. But then I’d picture Charlie’s hopeful eyes and the joy he had while watching those fish swim.
Learning to Grow
I took to the shed again—searching for some sort of sign, a hint of how I could make things better. That’s when something sparked. I remembered a scrap piece of wood lying in the corner, an old fence post I had half-heartedly planned to turn into garden trellises. I grabbed it, scratched out a plan, and built a make-shift shade cover for my weird little system.
Slowly but surely, I began to see improvement. The water cleared, and the tilapia—now living at a friend’s house in a real aquarium—were replaced with water crystals. That’s right, I’d turned to hydroponic mediums like rock wool and expanded clay. It was a back-to-basics sort of awakening.
And then, on a glorious morning, I finally caught a glimpse of growth—the tiniest green tips poked up from my new substrate. I couldn’t tell if they were weeds, but who cared?
The Takeaway
As I stood there with Charlie, I realized that it wasn’t about actually growing devilstrand or perfectly executing some grand aquaponics scheme. It was about learning, about trying and failing and laughing through the chaos. Growing something—in life, in your garden, or whatever else—takes time and patience.
So, if you’re thinking about doing this, don’t worry about getting it perfect. Just start. You’ll figure it out as you go.
Ready to dive into your own adventure? Join the next session and explore your creativity—Reserve your seat and let’s embark on this journey together. 🌱
Leave a Reply