Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Yes, gardeners, we are in February, close neighbor to March which hosts the first day of spring. Yes, many seed packages say we can start seeds indoors six-to-eight weeks before the first frost-free days, but March 21 is not necessarily when our season begins. Let’s clarify (because my Ouija board knows more than the one at the weather station).
What if a gardener wants to get the fastest start possible on his spring garden (who, me?) So, he says to his loyal cat Mr. Redford, “Not every day will it snow like everything white in the sky is falling one little piece at a time, but today it is, so let’s plant cabbage seeds in a box and put it on a windowsill.”
Unbridled enthusiasm is amusing and must be maintained if we grownup gardeners are to be like four-year old adventurers with better tools. One spring years ago my enthusiasm pushed the envelope, and twice a frost did what it’s supposed to do to young snow pea seedlings planted too early. Bad choices lead to wisdom, and now I know.
According to the almanac, the last expected frost date for our area is April 14, or 64 days from February 9. Let’s be in the moment about this. At the time of this report, a snowpack several inches thick lies glistening in the sunshine like a quilt on the garden. Soon enough it will melt leading to two months of garden prep – clearing, mulching, watching for surprise sprouts, assembling new bamboo trellises, tidying, considerable sitting on the bench with a harmonica… plenty to do before thinking of planting seeds.
If early transplants go into cold, cold ground, they might have no advantage over their seed pack mates that go into warmer soil two weeks later.
After all, a few years ago we had a foot of snow one night in May, so gardeners are very aware.
All that being stated clearly and with conviction, like kindergarteners at recess we gardeners proceed with our gardener adventures anyway. For instance, lettuce seeds sprout easily, and the plants can handle growing in a pot beside a window with morning sun. An ambitious freewheeling gardener – starting right now – can get small salads from the living room window before the last frost.
Did I remember to protect the floor? Oops! Unbridled enthusiasm might make a mess the first couple times.
There was nothing on the kitchen windowsill, so I fashioned an empty orange juice carton into a planter, added a soil mixture and planted goji berry seeds. The soil I used was partly from the leaf mulch pile, so I get chickweed and whatnot as a bonus. I poke the soil to aerate it, and soon enough the goji berry plants will be busting out of the carton and into gallon containers and I’ll need more windows or a change in the weather.
A friend gave me a ginkgo seedling which I put into a five-gallon pot below that busy living room window. An amaranth with dark almost spinach-green leaves sprouted beside the ginkgo, and it’s a beauty. It now has bright red tassels from which I intend to harvest seeds. In the meantime, it’s a beauty and it showed up on its own.
In the same pot as the lettuce seedlings, I planted a patch of chard seeds and they are sprouting. The lettuces will be harvested from there, but the chards will eventually find interim residences until the weather is just right. The gardener is obligating himself to watering until they’re bigger, finding pots and soil, transplanting, finding a place with enough sun for all the pots, and then watching over them for two months. That’s what gardener types do.
So, we get ahead of ourselves about things. Who among us has all his or her selves in alignment like radishes in a row… which might have to wait 64 days?