As soon as the Cardinals began singing, I felt it. What cheer!
It was time for the gardening members of my family to flock to Planters Seeds in Kansas City. We emerged from the outing with huge bags of seed-starting mix, plastic trays, pots and seeds. We gardeners can never have too many seeds.
Soon, my dining room and kitchen tables were covered with boxes of seeds. The coffee table in front of the the cozy fire was stacked with books on propagating plants from seed. Part of the couch was deep with seed catalogs, in case I might have missed getting something vital.
It's a wonder that I ever start seeds indoors, because it's an enormous mess. February ninth is when I must plant broccoli and cabbage. It's just something that I do.
Using the watering can and wearing my trusty respirator, I dampened the soil mix outside. Then the kitchen island became the staging area for planting some of the cool-season annuals.
It must be instinctive for gardeners to be prepared for the arrival of spring with armloads of plants. How else to explain why I planted five different varieties of cabbage? I know that thirty cabbages are too many; I'll give some away.
Last week, I started perennial and annual flowers in the bottom heat flat. The seedlings must be out of this neo-natal nursery by mid-March, when I need the bottom heat cable for the tomatoes and peppers.
Of the nine flower varieties that I planted, I shall try and limit myself to transplanting only six each. The reason is I have only three shelves of grow lights in front of a sunny window.
These plants become my tiny charges for the next couple of months. They require thinning, watering, feeding, transplanting, taking out to sun on mild days, protection from too much sun or wind, lights out at eleven p.m. and a wake-up call at six a.m.
I used to think this messy enterprise was merely something to do for entertainment in late winter. Any gardener knows it's much more than that.
Without it, I would have to migrate to the south to meet springtime.
