It has nothing whatsoever to do with seed viability – it’s all about me viability. My personal germination rate is running at about seventy percent at the moment, and by six o’clock tonight it will drop to forty-five.
Spring comes with a price. Schedules that already sigh with the weight of work, volunteer activities and some sort of quality home life, positively groan with the demands of spring sports and garden related work/functions/tours etc. added to the mix. At this time of year I must struggle to stop myself running through the season I adore with my head down and my eyes glued to an ever-lengthening to-do list. At the top of this list is seed starting – a job that is not without its complications.
The details of why, what and how are no problem at all. I love to start seeds. I know how to start seeds. The feel of the soil, the pictures on packets, the irresistible smell of fresh earth, the thrill of new varieties – all are as sunshine to my winter-starved heart.
It’s sorting out the where that fills me with dread.
For those of you who have a greenhouse – read no further. There’s going to be a fair amount of whining over the next few paragraphs, and you probably need to get some fresh air and check on the spoiled brats in your state-of-the-art conservatory anyway. However, those of you who struggle at any one time to find three square inches of space on a countertop, or a fridge, or a washing machine – read on and commiserate with someone who faces down her space once a year and never wins.