Perpetuity
When it’s the end of something, that means there’s space for the next thing. Take the universe, for example. It’s been around a while, takes up a ton of space (pun!), so when it fades to black something even more ingenious might burst onto the scene just like what might happen in your garden space next year.
We are quickly approaching our favorite season and that is, of course, seed catalog season (requires no decorating, commercial excess or waste of nearly symmetrical young trees). I usually start getting them in December.
For some gardeners, seed catalog season is about careful planning for how to get the most out of the garden space. We make a thorough assessment of the seeds remaining in our inventories. Most of mine are in a rectangular basket with various jars, tins and bowls nearby.
If you are a meticulous gardener who plants no more seeds than it takes to perfectly (according to the seed packet) fill your lettuce space, then you should have plenty lettuce seeds left because seed companies often put hundreds of lettuce seeds in a packet. Same for carrot seeds, though carrot seeds retain viability only a couple years usually, so write it down: “Need more purple carrot seeds.”
If you are a gardener who in the spring takes no chances for unsatisfactory germination so you plant the whole packet every time, then write it down: “Need more purple carrot seeds.”
Plus, some of us save seeds… but are they viable? Who do I trust– Baker Creek or me?
Seeds are life, so I treat them respectfully. Seeds can make it through home-grown compost and sprout in unexpected recently composted places. I encourage these surprises. However, this goes for pernicious pest plants as well as cucumbers, tomatoes, your favorite watermelons and all the morning glories your space can abide. Purslane, too. And lamb’s quarters.
So, a careful study of your seed inventory versus your definitively contrived garden plan easily reveals your perfect seed order.
However, for those of us who have not grown everything yet, another plan comes to mind: make several long lists from different catalogs, study them repeatedly, look through the catalog or online site yet again, then eventually agonizingly cross off items (snake beans, jelly melons) one at a time as a fiduciarily focused mist of reality starts to appear.
If you do this on a spreadsheet, the spreadsheet will do the arithmetic for you. If you don’t know about spreadsheets, hire an accountant or find a nine-year old.
This approach to seed ordering is not about how many seeds are left in the basket. This is an adventure. This is exploring a world of choices because your garden can be a work of art.
This year I grew Blue Butterfly peas because why not! They maintained through the harsh July weather and eventually produced the purist blue flowers I’ve ever seen. They get another turn. Suyo cucumbers, new to me, were so plentiful I gave away more than I pickled or ate.
So, what does an earnest gardener do when the space is finite but the choices never end? I just counted 24 packets of tomato seeds in my basket, and I’m saving seeds from two others. That should be enough… for Madison County! I have room for maybe 20 tomato plants, yet will I succumb to mesmerizing photos for another exotic multi-colored best-tasting-ever tomato from central Bulgaria, a country not represented in my inventory? Plus, I’m growing only three varieties of snow peas. Is that enough?
The sentiment in the staff room at the Wahoo Seed Discussion Consortium is, “Don’t worry about it. Do what you do, and in the end, that’s what you did. The universe is better off because you enriched its soil with your energy, and you calmed yourself down which spreads like pixie dust everywhere you go.”
In other words, write it down: “Need more purple carrot seeds.”