It has been an unbelievable winter. They call in an old fashioned winter but I am not so sure that it(the weather) isn't being manipulated by some secret power. Anyway, on my dining room table, there are peat pots filled with little tiny seedlings. A promise of things to come in my East Coast garden.
Seeds are alittle intimidating at first. A suitcase of things to come, or things that will never be. Looking back at all the springs that I have paraded to the nursery on the May 24th weekend to bring home pots of geraniums, petunias, impatients and the like. Thinking that next year, I won't be spending so much money on plants; instead, I will start them from seed. How hard can it be??
Here's the truth: It isn't as easy as I thought! I can say that in the confines of my blog, my space. I wouldn't tell anyone else that; I say that it is a matter of effort and planning which it is but so much more than that is entailed. There is the seeds that never sprout, or seedlings that sag down becoming too spindly to bear their own weight. Then, there are the seeds that overpower their pots and have to be transplanted every week.
There is some pride in me when at last, these little fellows taking over my dining room table can finally be taken outside. Pride in that it is I, I who gave life to green things. Pride in each of my green thumbs.
Well, that's what I am thinking about today: things to come and of my East Coast garden, my joy!