I Moved the Table To Where I Could See the Song Sparrows
An arctic blast descended with savage fury on us poor mountain folk and dumped almost two inches (!) of snow. Night time temperatures plunged to nine degrees, and yes, that's Fahrenheit. It was the perfect time to start some seeds!
I've been inside since the mercury plummeted, warm and snug in a house full of plastic potting materials, potting soil, seeds packets, and more plastic potting materials.
As I sorted through my vast collection of plastic potting materials, I reflected on this early February ritual: seed starting. More than ten years now, that's what I do in early February.
What felt different this year was the pleasure I took in the routine: these are my plastic potting materials, these are my seeds, this is my list, this is my little radio next to my table playing the latest country and western hits.
I seem to have entered a point where the seed starting procedure is a routine, an act that follows a yearly check-list, and is no longer a new and exciting adventure on which I am about to embark. When I made this transition I do not know, and I am even more clueless as to how I feel about it. It is not, I assure you, a feeling accompanied by a sense of expertise. Nor is it accompanied by a sense of tedium.
I do feel a longing for the of awe and giddiness that accompanied every act during my first few years. I miss the discovery and the wonder that every day held.
The newness has not been replaced by a sense of maturity. I am no veteran capable of advising the youth, nor do I feel in any way any more proficient at this now than I was years ago.
In fact, I still feel that every day is a learning experience, and that if I keep at this some more, some day I'll get good at it. It's just that I know how to start all the seeds now.
I've done it before, and I welcome it as it rolls 'round again.
Wait til Groundhog Day. Wait til it's closer to equinox than to solstice. Start the seeds you have. Start the ones you don't have when they arrive. Don't start them by following a schedule. Start them when you have time to start them. They're all going to come up. They're all going to get bigger. Bless every seed. Listen to music. Drink tea. Put the table near the window. It's fun to watch the sparrows.
I've been inside since the mercury plummeted, warm and snug in a house full of plastic potting materials, potting soil, seeds packets, and more plastic potting materials.
As I sorted through my vast collection of plastic potting materials, I reflected on this early February ritual: seed starting. More than ten years now, that's what I do in early February.
What felt different this year was the pleasure I took in the routine: these are my plastic potting materials, these are my seeds, this is my list, this is my little radio next to my table playing the latest country and western hits.
I seem to have entered a point where the seed starting procedure is a routine, an act that follows a yearly check-list, and is no longer a new and exciting adventure on which I am about to embark. When I made this transition I do not know, and I am even more clueless as to how I feel about it. It is not, I assure you, a feeling accompanied by a sense of expertise. Nor is it accompanied by a sense of tedium.
I do feel a longing for the of awe and giddiness that accompanied every act during my first few years. I miss the discovery and the wonder that every day held.
The newness has not been replaced by a sense of maturity. I am no veteran capable of advising the youth, nor do I feel in any way any more proficient at this now than I was years ago.
In fact, I still feel that every day is a learning experience, and that if I keep at this some more, some day I'll get good at it. It's just that I know how to start all the seeds now.
I've done it before, and I welcome it as it rolls 'round again.
Wait til Groundhog Day. Wait til it's closer to equinox than to solstice. Start the seeds you have. Start the ones you don't have when they arrive. Don't start them by following a schedule. Start them when you have time to start them. They're all going to come up. They're all going to get bigger. Bless every seed. Listen to music. Drink tea. Put the table near the window. It's fun to watch the sparrows.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home