February 20
I’ve got a thing about seeds. I love them for what they can become. I hate that I have little power over them besides pokin’ ’em in the soil and hoping something comes of it. Three weeks ago I committed what I called a Harebrained Act of Hope, planting seeds in little cells and putting them under a light. Yesterday I transplanted the results of that shaky venture into slightly larger pots to give roots room to roam and to free up cells for more lettuce seeds. In three weeks, I will plant the first batch outside, plant the second planting in the larger pots, and free up the whole seed starting kit and caboodle for tomatoes, peppers, eggplants and other warm season plants.
From that first planting I have a dozen broccoli plants, 18 lettuce plants (red leaf, buttercrunch, Speckled Trout Romaine), and four bok choi. I have three tiny parsley plants and a handful of baby lettuces still in their cells, too small to transplant.
Next Stop: The Garden!
Why do I doubt seeds? Why the love/hate? Really, there’s no hate. C’mon! It’s actually the thrill of risk, the momentary giving up control over something I care about very much. Stick the seeds in the soil and do the best you can to keep it a decent temperature and level of moisture. And then wait like an expectant father, hoping against hope that everything will go o.k. and you’ll end up with a bouncing baby head of lettuce.
Awaiting Round Two
