The Last Frost
Anticipation is hard to restrain this time of year.
I’m eager to start many projects but the most zealous about the garden. I wander the space, observing signs of life and growth leftover from last year. The tarragon, oregano, and thyme were back in force but rosemary, a tender herbs like parsley had surely died away and would need replanting.
In last seasons celosia and wildflower bed, were signs of an unrecognizable four leafed plant which I left alone. We’ll see what it becomes. Surrounding those little mysteries, I visualized where the tomato trellis ought to go and wonder if I should grab a few strawberry runners from a friend or if my harvest would actually be abundant this season.
Rumor has it, in our growing zone, we ought not plant until after Mother’s Day for the greatest success. This is much too late in the season for me. By Mother’s Day, I’m completely stir crazy and ready to scatter seed packets from a loaded confetti canon. Fall where they may, I am just excited for life, greenery and pastel colors to return to garden.
To help with my antsy hands, I have been practicing sowing and starting seeds inside.
Seed starting has been slow going. My plants are dainty, whimpy and generally unready to withstand the true outdoors. Although some tend to surprise me when I harden them off, I know they are quite right.
After visiting a friends miniature farm I learned a few things I need to do in order to grow healtier, robust starters:
Invest in better cells. My crate paper pots are darling and environmentally-friendly but they are not suitable for the starting phase. I was recommended a sturdy and reusable cell system with a watering tray and humidity dome for the job. Then I could use my compostable pots once plants matured.
Water from the bottom. I didn’t realize just how moist seedlings must remain. Mine have been thirsty! This trick also keeps their tiny stems from being battered down on by heavy streams of water.
Thin seedlings as they sprout. This is the hardest for me. It seems cruel to pluck and waste a tiny sprout simply to make room for one or two. Yet this single strategy is what has foiled many seasons of starting seeds for me. My little seedlings are competing with one another. Sometimes five or eight of them in one little pot. Thinning keeps them all weak and pitiful. Typically, none survive being transplanted into the garden bed.
This season the garden would require the last hedge of Arbors planted to complete a green room of privacy. I hoped to have them in while the ground was cold but the rainy season around the bend. We’ve lost too many Arbor’s when planting in early summer.
Repurposing the children’s large stick collection in the garage was a natural touch to boarder the beds. They hold back the gravel from the mulch. Behind these large branches I would plant a perennial scaffolding of hydrangeas, peonies, roses, and butterfly bush to cut on year after year.
Vigorously, I sketched plans again and again in search of an ideal place for the children’s sensory garden and where the remainder of the cut flowers might thrive best. For whatever reason, I deeply desired to singularly grow floral this year and forget about vegetables. After some consideration and family input, we couldn't bring ourselves to a complete rejection of summer vegetables. We so delight in discoveries in the kitchen garden. The way it tastes, smells, and the time it takes to watch our little seeds climb and mature before arriving on the dinner table where we recite, in chorus: “Can you believe we grew this?!”
For a few weeks, I played with the idea of container gardening or starting a new landscape bed. Without a fenced or walled area I would need to protect any young plant from the wildlife that frequently passes through in the bustle of spring or who hunker down in the hosta beds to shield from the summer heat.
So, I asked my darling husband to build a raised stone bed just for cut florals. A dream of mine is to replace my market bought flowers with ones cut from my own garden. To have a proper go at raising and arranging a variety of flowers to bring into the house excites me! Be it in large vats or single stemmed jars.
He came through on his promise to construct the bed under one condition; I must keep it filled to the brim with colorful flowers.
It was a deal.