As of today it has officially begun. Fully a week earlier than last year I began to sow the seeds of summer. Yes, the move is partly impatience. The packets of seeds, ordered and delivered weeks ago, were indeed burning a hole in my closet where I had secreted them away out of Tir's canine reach. I was anxious to get started. But there is more to the progress than that. Backing up from my anticipated garden opening in early-to-mid May, several of the seeds prefer that much time in the greenhouse. Additionally, I intend to be smarter about staging the transplanting over a period of weeks to spread any hypothetical harvest. All that, and those that are truly on the early side will have enough time to germinate and show themselves with adequate time remaining for replanting those that prove to be only shooting blanks.
There was, of course, more to it than simply dirt. First there had to be electricity reconceived after a year's disassembly. There are warming lights to power beneath the trays, and growing lights suspended above. The former need to always be on, while the latter need a timer's intervention. The heater went back in at least for these early weeks, and it needs it own electrical consideration. Engineering is not my forte, but tonight's gala premier inspection evidenced a successful installation until it all blows a fuse.
After heating the barn, setting up work tables and organizing the packets by timing I tore open the first bag of compost and scooped full the trays. Finally, with a deep breath and a steady hand, I nestled the tiny portents of life into their temporary home and shuttled the filled cells next door and onto the greenhouse shelves.
I wouldn't presume to know the silent broodings of a woman when she first confirms that she's pregnant, but I suspect there are both giddy anticipations and wordless fears -- of all that flourish and all that could endanger beyond the opaque curtain of that which is to be for this that is still barely more than a seed. And I wouldn't presume to equate those stirrings of natal life with composted tomato seeds. But, still, as I checked the lights and misted the surfaces and cast an evening's final glance along the shelves, it was a prayer that spontaneously rose as the door latched behind me.
An invocation of sorts.
A blessing prayer for nourishment, safety and, yes, growth.
2 comments:
I liked the part about how a newly pregnant woman would feel...I will confirm the anticipation and worry are quite similar. This summer has GOT to be better for you....you are a brave and faithful man of the soil.
"Brave and faithful" are kind and charitable adjectives, but "stubbornly naive" might be more accurate. We shall see what grows.
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