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tough love with seedlings (and chaos management)

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I, girl who loves to talk about compost and hike in the mountains, just spent nearly two days at work in an all-day seminar on product management.  The seminar was as interesting as a corporate meeting can be, but as the minutes ticked by I panicked about all of the things building up.  I could almost see giant pop-up email notifications in my peripheral vision.

VP of foolishness:
At one point during the day, I found myself mentally starting a to-do list, responding to an email request from one my colleagues on my Blackberry, tweeting out a review that had just gone live, and looking up the new address for my doctor’s office on my iPhone–all at the same time (and I’m not kidding).  I was simultaniously handling two phones, one social media site, email, a power point in front of me, and a guy using phrases like “perceived value” and “‘win/loss analysis.”  

Self-evaluation
When I realized what I was doing, I had to actually laugh at myself.  I’m so important that the office can’t function without me?  Hardly. 

I caught myself before it could get any worse and I put the phoneS down. Then I channeled my inner Zen, remembering that I should be in the present.  What was the point of being in this seminar if I was letting myself concentrate on what was going on outside of that room?  What drove me to pull my Blackberry out of my bag during a meeting when I firmly believe this action is incredibly rude (and I detest owning a Blackberry)? 

Market validation
My epiphany was reinforced when I went to my doctor’s appointment (the one I was looking up during the meeting to find the quickest way there) and heard the words, “You have to find a way to reduce your stress.” 

Ha. 

Employee help line
I do know that gardening reduces stress for all of us that have a love affair with nature and growing.  I feel it.  It is like my own yoga class in my back yard.  Squatting over a raised bed to weed is my “frog,” using the little push-mower we have is my “airplane,” and reaching behind the dahlias to plant sunflower seeds while trying not to damage the marigolds–hey, that is my “warrior II.”    

Increased productivity
I craved order among the craziness.

I decided to thin out the remaining seedlings I have growing heartily under grow lights.  I have avoided this because it is so hard to do!  What I have let happen is pure chaos.  I have five broccoli seedlings growing in a peet pot that is no bigger than two inches and celery root seedlings growing together and tangled. This is not OK. Yet how does one devoted plant momma decide which seedlings should be cut and which ones stay?  Someone once shared with me a crucial tip pertaining to work: “surgical is merciful.”  I used that phrase today with my plants, scissor in hand.

Cucumber. tomato, broccoli, and kohlrabi seedlings...I'm so sorry.

Some rules for thinning
-Start to thin when the seedlings have the second (or “true”) set of leaves and not before. You want to see which seedlings are the strongest before you thin.
-Do not pull a seedling out to try to save it because you may damage the root systems of those around it.  You have to use a scissor and cut the stem close to the dirt.
-If you have to touch any of the seedlings to maneuver between them, touch them from a leaf and not the stem.  A plant can survive with a damaged leaf but it is game over if you damage the stem.
-Regarding spacing, a good rule of thumb is to give each seedling at least an inch (two inches would be better) of growing space on each side.   If the plants are already in their own pod, keep only one plant per pod.
-Brace yourself.  You may have to go back and thin even more when the seedlings get a little bigger.

When the painful process is all over, you’ll have the strongest seedlings growing without having to compete for real estate.  Further, you will have restored order in at least one aspect of your life.

Position statement
We can’t make the chaotic tornado around us stop, but we can find a way to lay low in the calm center of it more often AND be more present in the moment.

Here is a great article about being more present.

a week of spring: lilac

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Saturday
I came home feeling under the weather yesterday, so I wasn’t able to post.  I’m sorry for missing a day of my “week of spring!”

This last picture of the week is of a little lilac bush that is less than one foot high, but full of new growth.

My vegetable plants are important because I spend so much time growing them from seed and I enjoy the harvest so much.

My perennial flowers are enjoyable because they brighten up my home and it feels like finding secret treasure when they bloom.

But I do have an emotional attachment to some of my plants, this lilac included.  It made a long journey to Boston from Windsor, New York.  When my parents decided to sell the home I grew up in, I took a few bits of memorabilia:
-a forsythia bush I gave my father one year for his birthday
-an indigo I gave him for father’s day that I had purchased from The New England Wildflower Association
-a lupine, because my mother and I admire Miss Rumphius, the lupine lady
-a yellow rose that my mother thinks is beautiful (and she converted me into a rose fan)
-a bleeding heart from my great grandmother’s garden that later spent many years at our home in New York
-some of the gooseneck loosestrife that I loved to put into arrangements
-a stunning purple clematis
-and this tiny little lilac tree

The one thing that I don’t see sprouting is the bleeding heart, which is breaking my heart because it was my father’s most dear plant.  I keep looking for signs of life everyday.  Everything else is coming up with vigor.

When I left NY in 2003, I practically burnt rubber driving away because I felt so stifled there and I needed a fresh start.   When my parents made the decision to leave last year, I didn’t feel an ounce of sadness that I’d be losing the home of my past.

How surprised am I when I now catch myself missing this place that my dad built with his bare hands to create a home for his family.  Or when I find myself thinking about the smell of the clay-laden dirt that we used to curse so much.  The other day, I heard peepers (what we country folk call the chorus frog) so loud and clear from the highway and it made my heart ache because I always fell asleep in summers listening to the peepers on our pond.  When I see the sky here at night, I remember sitting on the porch staring at the clear, starry sky that was so much brighter there without the Boston light pollution.  In spite of my desire to leave and some of the bad memories I left behind, I feel nostalgic about that place.  I remember camp fires out back and picking flower bouquets for my mom and the times she’d ask me to “grab something for dinner from the garden.”

How ironic that this lilac from my parents’ home in New York is the state flower of their new home in New Hampshire.

The fragrant lilac is a symbol of the first emotions of love.

a week of spring: forsythia

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Thursday
I really do despise television.  I’ve been called pretentious for saying those words but I can’t help it.  Sometimes I do watch old episodes of Law & Order or CSI (I’m a crime novel junkie, so these shows do appeal to me).  If I’m ill, I’ll watch really terrible Lifetime made-for-TV movies with the hope of falling asleep.  Normally, TV just makes me feel like I’ve wasted time and I’d honestly rather listen to music.  The last time I really got into a TV show, it was The Pillars of the Earth miniseries, which is based on one of my favorite books.

Whenever people are talking about new TV shows, I usually glaze over…until my mother somehow recently got me hooked on American Idol.  Tonight, I found myself asking Chris to take a break from his hockey game so that I could see who got kicked off Idol this week.  He did it with a faux scowl (and all the sports-loving men reading this probably think I’m horrible) , but who can argue with someone who literally never asks to watch a TV program?

As I sit here and look forward to Casey’s performance next week (while hoping America stops voting for Haley), I’ll share with you my Thursday spring picture.

Forsythia is one of the most amazing spring blooms. It flowers before growing leaves, which creates an intense yellow ball. Forsythia is really easy to root. If you cut a few branches from an available bush (and no, I'm not suggesting you steal...unless you know you won't get caught in an embarrassing situation), you can put them in water and they will root! Be sure to change the water frequently to keep it from becoming stagnate and stinky.

a week of spring: garlic

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Wednesday
I just got back from dinner at La Siesta.  I am happily full of a vegetarian burrito, tortilla chips, salsa, and of course SANGRIA (so pardon any typos). It was so nice to have a little impromptu date with Chris.

In honor of Mexican food, date night, and a little spice, I’m sharing a photo of my sprouting garlic.  Honestly, the garlic wasn’t in the plan because I didn’t think it would come up.  However, I’m so excited at the prospect of having my own fresh garlic this summer because we will definitely use it and love it.  We use garlic in just about everything.

Garlic lowers blood pressure and cholesterol, aids in digestion, fights parasites, and is a natural antiseptic. I say put garlic in everything possible!

a week of spring: daffodil

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Tuesday
Today, I did something really indulgent and unplanned after work.  I got a facial.  Let me tell you, it was heaven.  We have to remember to be good to ourselves.  That could be reading a good book with a glass of wine to sip, taking a bath with lots of candles lit, going for a power walk on a sunny day, cooking a new vegetarian meal, taking a yoga class, going on a hike, writing in a journal (or on a blog!), or whatever it is that makes you happy and relaxed.  I’m just listing the things that make me happy of course.

My face feels bright and sunny, so I’ll share a photo of a daffodil outside that is radiant.  I just planted daffodil bulbs last fall for the first time, so this is truly my very first one to bloom ever.

The official name of the daffodil is narcissus. They, second only to crocus, let us know that spring has arrived. 

A poem by Wordsworth dedicated solely to this lovely flower:

Daffodils
I wander’d lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch’d in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed — and gazed — but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

a week of spring: tulip

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Monday
I walked in the door tonight and dinner was made!  I have to confess something and you can’t tell my parents:  I love brussel sprouts.  Add a little olive oil and some creative spices (Chris used a spice mixture from Oleana, the most amazing restaurant ever), and these little nutritious bundles taste so delicious (and load you up with Vitamin C, A, B6 and other great stuff).

Today (ahem–meatless Monday might I remind you), I would like to share with you a photo of one of my revered tulips.  It is oh so close to blooming, yet beautiful even without the color.  Tulips are like graceful sculptures with their long, sweeping leaves.  Their colors are dramatic and, sadly, short-lived.  I think this is what makes them special and what makes us enjoy them so very much.  They are little reminders to enjoy the important moments in life, even if they don’t last long.

Tulips began in Asia and were introduced to the Netherlands, where a "tulip mania" began in the 1600s. These tulips were so sought after, the price became extraordinarily high and then crashed. In fact, this is considered the first documented "economic bubble." It is easy to see why, because these flowers are gorgeous. If you have any ground space at all (or even a big pot), you should definitely plant some this fall to enjoy them next spring. It is worth the effort.

a week of spring: primrose

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Sunday
I just spent the last five days in Stoddard and Lebanon, New Hampshire, where the weather can turn from calm to angry in a matter of minutes.  If you can drive there this time of year, you can drive anywhere. In the past few weeks, I’ve experienced getting stuck on a hill after a heavy snow (and driving white-knuckled down steep Pitcher Mountain), driving 40 miles an hour on 89 because of blinding fog, facing both hail and sleet head-on, and inching my way home through a rain storm that my wipers could barely keep up with.  There is still snow on the ground there and little vegetation to speak of.  I pulled into my driveway last night and couldn’t believe what I saw.  Even at night, I could see my forsythia bush blazing and the grass looked lush and green.  Spring, my friends, literally began while I was away.

Today, I wandered around my yard to see what plants were coming back to life.  Joyfully, I see nearly everything peeking up with the exception of some later perennials such as lupine and delphinium.  To celebrate, I’ve decided to put up a picture every day this week to share my discoveries.

To start, I’ll share a picture I took about a week ago of a primrose that I never imagined would come back.  Chris seems to love scouring the Stop and Shop clearance table in the floral department and found this lovely plant in an ugly pink plastic pot.  I threw it into the ground last summer and it was wilted and sad.  Honestly, I left the poor thing for dead last fall.

Things have a funny way of working out.   The day I discovered this little treasure, the sky was gray and the tree above the primrose hadn’t sprouted any buds yet.  Words can’t express how bright this flower looked against the neutral background and how happy it made me feel.

The primrose is native to Europe and is one of the earliest flowers to bloom in spring there.


Grow Great Grub

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If I ever meet Gayla Trail, I might just have to hug her to show my gratitude.  I found myself in a hospital waiting room with my father pacing…anxiously…and ready to crawl the walls.  We found little ways of getting each another through those 5 hours, one of which was thumbing through this wonderful book together to pass the time and think happy thoughts.

If you thought you were a plant geek prior to reading this, brace yourself.  You’ll be dreaming of warm summer days, tomato sandwiches, and ways to fit in a few extra pots for herbs you may never have even heard of yet (Shiso? Count me in!). Seriously, Gayla Trail has a very approachable way of introducing her readers to container and small-space gardening.  Mark my words, she really knows her stuff.  From inventive ways of starting your seeds to growing your favorite flowers, herbs, vegetables, and fruit (ranging from pest control to companion planting), you’ll be so ready to go when your last possible chance of frost passes.  Aside from legitimately solid information and advice, Grow Great Grub offers something very unique and not found in many gardening manuals: inspiration.  The pictures are absolutely lovely to say the least, the visual design of the book is pleasing, and she has a way of really helping you get excited about your own personal organic garden revolution.  I can’t seem to stop flipping through to read the recipes (yes, there are recipes too), gazing longingly at the beautiful photos, and continuing to ponder what else I can add to my beds or pots this year.  This book even got my husband, the non-gardener, to find certified potatoes to try out some “trash can spuds” this year.  I say, without hesitation, Grow Great Grub is the best purchase I’ve made in a long time.  If you are a garden enthusiast (large or small), I highly recommend this book.  You can view a few page spreads here.

You should also regularly check into the author’s blog: http://www.yougrowgirl.com/

heartstrings to seedlings

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I’m sure you can tell by the weeks that have passed without a post that something has been going on.  I don’t have the courage to write about everything just yet, but let me just say it has been the most intense and scary few weeks I’ve had in all of my 32 years thus far.

Life has a way of organizing and prioritizing your time and energy for you. A few weeks ago, after I read this article, Chris and I sat down to list out some changes we wanted to make.  It is true, you have to make time to make changes. From which credit card to pay off first and how often we’d actually sit down and eat at the dinner table together to where we’d go on vacation this year and how we could afford to start an organic veggie farm in 10 years, we hashed out a real plan of change.  Two days later, I got some news that threw every possible plan out the window.  When something big happens with someone in your family, all bets are off.

I spent a week upset, trying aimlessly to make it through a day without breaking down, and feeling like I just couldn’t take one more thing.  I also really had my life put into perspective for me.  What was I getting so crazy about previously?  I realized I had everything I needed.  A home, a job, and my family.  All of a sudden work stress seemed so insignificant and the woes I had been feeling felt laughable.  And all of a sudden, I had something real to be scared about.

I hadn’t been home–really home–in over a week.  I hadn’t had proper sleep in that amount of time either.  When I woke up one morning a few days ago, I needed to see my little seedlings.  When I had left them, almost all had been growing strong and healthy, with the exception of some spindly celeriac.

I needed the moist smell of greenhouse dirt and life growing before my eyes.  They’d been under the care of Chris for that week.  I couldn’t wait to see how they were flourishing and what had grown and what might need to be placed into a bigger growing space.  What I saw broke my heart.  About 50% or more were withered up and unrecoverable.  In all that had happened the prior week, I had held it together as best as I could.  When I saw those seedlings, I sat down on the ground and had a wall-shaking cry.  I’ll bet that sounds crazy to most, but my plant-loving friends will understand how therapeutic gardening can be.

The greenhouse could have been too hot.  Perhaps Chris didn’t realize the dirt had to be soaked.  Maybe the circulation wasn’t enough for them.   Whatever the reason, they weren’t strong enough to make it and I had much more important places to be than to worry about being a perfect plant momma.

So, this evening, I salvaged what I could.  I took the 5 (out of 25) peppers and placed them in larger containers.   I also weeded out the multiple marigolds in each pod and brought some life back to the flowering kale.  Thankfully, I only lost a few tomatoes and I had only planted the ageratum because I had seeds left, so I felt no real loss over those. I do have two little baby ageratum seedlings trying to make it and boy am I rooting for them.

Strangely, I have a feeling of hope.  I feel like those 5 pepper plants will be the best peppers I’ve ever tasted because they are survivors.  They are just like my family–survivors in tough times.  I can’t wait until May when we have a little planting party here together and we can celebrate growing, family, life, and love.

cheating spring

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Forsythia doesn’t meekly flower in spring.  It turns from a camouflaged brown bunch of twigs to a shouting ball of yellow.  “Look at me!” it commands.  Against a neutral world of hibernating life, it truly stands out and proudly announces that Spring has finally arrived. 

I decided to cheat a little because I’m simply getting impatient.  I cut some Forsythia twigs that had been damaged by the heavy snow and put them in water on my kitchen windowsill.  A week and a half later, I have the happiest yellow bouquet.

I also have a red leaf plum tree in front of my porch that has the loveliest red leaves in summer.

I clipped a few limbs from this tree, which is nothing but grey and empty right now, and also put them in water.  Just this morning I discovered little pink blooms that normally wouldn’t be popping out until late April/early May. 

Patience is a virtue, but why wait?  I get to see these blooms twice this year.