The moment Juana and I stepped off the plane from Florida, we realized that we were not in the tropics anymore: The temperature was 50 degrees less than what we had become used to and the early green of southern dogwoods and oaks were replaced by the skeletons of their northern relatives. This mattered little, in a way, as it was now time to start seedlings for spring planting.
My kit was stored in the backyard shed: The snow had mostly melted leaving a white, icy remnant that crunched as I approached it. Enough had melted so the door would open easily and I saw my gear: grow light and stand, legs, plywood board that would hold my seedlings. And of course my bags of soil, which were frozen into plastic coated rocks. I took the soil inside and started to thaw out portions that I could place in flats. As my soil melted, I walked though the snow to get the rest of my seedling gear.
For the next two months, our solarium becomes crowded with bulbs, seedlings, and plants waiting for the sign that they can be placed outside and liberated from the artificial heat and light that lets them grow and thrive. Those days seemed a bit remote as I chiseled chunks of soil and placed them into a bucket to further thaw out.
After a few hours the soil absorbed enough warmth to dissolve into a cold loamy mass that needed a bit of water to increase its moisture for the seedlings-to-be. I started out with two trays and 10 different variety of greens and vegetables: broccoli, space spinach, mizuna, tango lettuce, claytonia, mesclun, deer tongue lettuce, swiss chard, kale and pak choy.
I sprinkled seeds into their respective blocks hoping that my efforts would emerge soon. They have.
Now every day Charlotte and I check their progress, mist the seedlings and anticipate the day when we can quickly grab a sweet leaf into our waiting mouths. We can hardly wait.
