I started seeds today.
I slipped into my organic cotton, size 8, white dress, threw on my favorite sustainably grown bamboo hat and went out to my heated greenhouse. There I filled some handmade artisan pots with potting soil and lovingly tucked each seed into it's soil cocoon. Then as I watered them I sang a Native People's blessing in the original language.
And that bit of nonsense boomeranged me back to reality in a hurry.
Starting seeds here involves very little that you'd see in a magazine layout. Nothing is new or remotely artisan but rather a tangible reminder of heavy duty make-doism. It also involves a lot of running back and forth from the house to the garage trying to find everything; this is great exercise but it sure hasn't helped me into a size 8 anything.
I start with sterilized potting soil in a turkey roasting pan that I scored at an auction. The plastic pots are originally from I don't know where and the rest are take-out coffee cups from my caffeine addicted husband. I label each pot with a stake cut from an old venetian blind and put them in kitty litter pans I bought several years ago at a dollar store. Even the seeds are mostly from previous years and some are saved from our own plants.
There is no greenhouse at our place and the plant shelves with lights that we built are mostly full already. Today I had to scout around for another spot to put the latest pots. We have a small chest freezer by a sunny window and near the furnace that should do; I hope I can remember I put them there.
I realize none of this makes me a candidate for a feature spread in Starting Seeds Monthly. But the seeds don't care if I'm in organic cotton or my ripped thrift store jeans, they grow anyway. And that is one great reason to garden.
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