The seeds are here
This is my seed order for the year, spread out on our dining room table. I might have gotten a little carried away with the seed catalogs, but what can I say? After two summers of moving, I’m eager to get a garden going again, even if I have to stick with container gardening for now. Some of these will get started by a window in our dining room this weekend, the first volley in this spring’s veggie growing campaign.
There are a lot of reasons that we like to grow at least some of our own food, and I’m passionate about all of them. But at this time of year, the only one that seems to matter is this: These little seeds promise me that someday, someday, spring will arrive. The days will be longer, we’ll be able to strip the bed of its cocoon of extra blankets, and I’ll once again get to spend afternoons reading on the porch and spare moments puttering among the plants.
I can’t wait.
Seeds make another promise that always astonishes me, too. There’s nothing quite like the knowledge, especially in the middle of winter, that every single one of those little gems (assuming I don’t screw everything up, of course) holds enough potential to burst into a lush plant, bearing fruit that will provide nutrients for us and the seeds for next year’s bounty, too. Feel free to draw an inspiring metaphor between that and just about anything you like. Nature is always so poetic.
What gets you through the gray days?