Time for Gardening!

Some would say I am a slow learner. I dispute that. On the other hand, if measured solely by my dismal record in growing plants from seeds, I am forced to agree. This year was the eighth successive year that I failed in trying to create hardy vegetables and lovely flowers from seeds and then nurturing them to maturity. For some reason or other, my seeds don’t turn into healthy, growing plants despite having spent countless hours and dollars on grow lamps, germination benches, plastic trays and guaranteed seeds. Each year I have a seed germination rate lower than the tax rates paid by rich people.  I should have learned by now that success in this area is beyond me. MAYBE I AM A SLOW LEARNER.

As a cold, hard winter ended this year, once again, I dreamed of evening summer walks with a margarita in hand, strolling among bountiful gardens bursting with color and fragrance. In my reverie, the amble through my summer garden was always an enchanting pastime based on admiration for my own handiwork – working the soil, raising the plants, germinating the seeds – all done at little cost since I always imagined robust plants started from low-cost seeds. By late winter, my dreams reached a crescendo and I was salivating over seed catalogs that arrived at my door. As I poured over the glossy magazines, my lovely wife had the temerity to remind me that last year I swore an oath that I would never again try to coax seeds from their tiny hard shells into tender seedlings. Somehow, I managed to forget last year and I plunged forward into ordering new seeds.

In my defense, I should explain that this year I tried something different. No longer would I attempt to distribute tiny seeds the size of dust into plastic trays filled with soil that had clumps 1,000 times larger than the seeds. No longer would I fill the trays with water and float the seeds onto the floor. No longer would I cause tender plants to fall over when I missed watering them during a weekend trip. No longer would the cold nip those few that managed to survive when I sat them outside. None of that for me. This year, I said, I would only start seeds that are easy to grow; beans, peas, and zucchini, and maybe those free packets of mixed flowers the seed company gave me a couple years ago. Furthermore, I would start them outdoors in my new mini-greenhouse that I purchased at the hardware for a mere $30 - you know, the one with the clear plastic that had two zippers securing it over a thin metal frame. And, just to guarantee success, I would wait to plant them in my new little greenhouse until it was almost time for planting outdoors. “I can’t miss,” I chortled as I assembled the seeds, the plastic trays, the paper pots, the peat –filled soil, and then stuffed the whole mess into my new mini-green house and zipped the clear cover.

I found the perfect spot. My deck faces south and it has a stairway that shields the wind. I put the greenhouse against the wall of my house and against the stairwell. Full sun. Protection from wind. A new greenhouse. Easy to grow seeds. I couldn’t miss. As I planted the seeds, I almost tasted the fresh veggies and smelled the lovely flowers that would be sure to result.

Oh, did I watch over those seeds! Each day I checked their progress, unzipping the clear plastic cover to expose the trays that I carefully pulled forward for a minute observation. Every day or two I added more water. Nothing seemed to be happening even as I tingled with anticipation. The days stretched into weeks. And then, some ominous hints began to appear of things going wrong. First, the clear plastic separated from the zipper, leaving gaping voids. It wasn’t my fault. The manufacture of the greenhouse must have been faulty. I wondered if the wind could do some terrible damage to my seedlings, if they ever emerged. Next, the zipper failed. Now, the voids in the clear plastic were even bigger by the failure of zipper near the top where it refused to join its mate. Maybe it was a marital failure between the two sheets of plastic, I don’t know. I should have been tipped off by these problems. As the two week date passed, the seeds still hadn’t germinated despite the seed package’s confident statement to the contrary.  

I don’t know why the seeds didn’t germinate sooner. Maybe it was too hot: the sun warmed the greenhouse to something above a thousand degrees during the day. Maybe the seeds were too old (I had saved some of them from prior year’s). Maybe it was the unexpected cold that we had a few nights when the temperature dipped below freezing -- I don’t know. Several days after all the seeds should have germinated, I found that only the trays dedicated to lettuce had several tiny leaves emerging from the soil. They were so small to be barely visible. I waited two more days and then the weatherman gave a warning for a nighttime frost. Worried about those tiny leaves, I decided to move the entire assembly into my garage for warmth. It was heavy.

The next morning, since the weather forecast was positive, I picked up the heavy greenhouse in the garage and carried it a few steps from the garage into the sun, foregoing its former distant location on the deck. “It might be cold again,” I reasoned, requiring another carry to the garage. It was the kiss of death. While I was away that day, the wind came up. I came home that afternoon to find my new greenhouse lying on the ground, my precious seed trays upside down, the plastic trays and soil and invisible seeds now scattered in the grass. I prayed aloud for several minutes. Finally, I cleaned up the mess. I threw the soil and paper pots on my compost pile and folded the torn, clear plastic and cheap metal greenhouse for storage in my barn. It was a total loss, another failure that stretched my record to nine consecutive failed attempts at growing plants from seeds.

That night I must have dreamed about germinating seeds. I awoke with a new plan. I still had a few bean and pea seeds remaining in unopened packages and I sorely wanted fresh garden peas this year. I decided to forego the greenhouse route and plant the seeds in my garden. “Why not get a head start on seed germination?” I asked myself, since it was still a few days before June 1, the traditional day for planting in the north woods. I took the remaining peas and beans and a few other seeds, put them into a plastic cup, filled the cup with water, and set it upon my picnic table to warm in the sun, hoping to foreshorten the germination date and salvage what little pride remained in my abilities as a gardener.

The next day was close enough to June 1 for me and I decided to plant my peas and beans. I spent an two hours of hard work using my hoe and rake to prepare the soil. I went to the picnic table for my seeds. They were gone. The plastic cups were empty. I looked everywhere. It finally dawned on me - a foul and nasty chipmunk or squirrel had climbed onto my table and devoured every seed. None remained for me except a few beet seeds that were too small and hard too eat. Another loss. Another blow to my fragile ego. That night, the wind came up and tipped over the last cup with the beet seeds. They are now hidden in my lawn.   

 So, here is a request and the reason for this blog. Could you please send me an e-mail sometime next February and tell me that under no circumstances should I attempt to grow plants from seeds. Maybe I will learn.