Signs of spring are everywhere now — the little ones that feel more significant somehow than the fanfare of blossoms that’s yet to come. Up in the treetops, squirrels are pulling acrobatic feats to nibble on buds. I’ve spotted my first crocuses and even a few stray daffodils. The songs of tufted titmice are ever-present outside our apartment, heralding the longer days with their calls of peter-peter.
The camellias are in full swing now, too. The first time I ever paid that plant real notice was in college in southern California, a world away from the Maryland suburb in which I was raised. In my senior year, I took a ballet class in a little mission-style building that was lined with camellias. The instructor refused to teach to anything but live accompaniment, so if you walked by the studio when class was in session you’d see those perfect layered blossoms and hear delicate piano music. The whole scene was so staid and refined. It felt out of place in California. Those camellias became a kind of taste of home for me, a reminder of a stuffy East Coast aesthetic that I found oddly comforting. Now, I appreciate camellias mostly for the novelty of a blossom in winter. But I love those examples of how plants can evoke such feeling in us.
Over at my garden plot, spring is mostly showing itself in the form of spring onions. I’d forgotten — until I stopped by the plot yesterday — that at the start of the growing season, these beds fill with the tender little alliums. I assume they must be a relic of a past caretaker of my plot, like the mint that chokes out vegetables in summer. I spent much of Saturday morning pulling out spring onions in the east bed. I also pruned sage, black-eyed Susans, and milkweed. The sage had gotten pretty leggy, so hopefully its haircut will reinvigorate it.
I was pleased to see that under all the weeds and hay, the soil looks great. It’s still primarily a clay soil, but it’s becoming rich and loamy. Lugging all that soil amendment over to the plot for the last two springs has been worth it! I’ll add some more and double dig it before I sow my first seeds.
For now, though, most of the action is still happening at home. I’ve pricked out my kale seedlings from the egg cartons I sprouted them in and potted them on in a roomier containers. They seem to be doing well; I’m hopeful they’ll be ready to move down the cold frame soon. I had to restart the leeks and sorrel I sowed a few weeks back because I made the mistake of leaving the humidity domes on for too long and the poor air circulation resulted in mold. The second sowing of leeks has all sprouted now, so no real loss there. Sorrel can take as long as 14 days to germinate so I’m still waiting on those.
A tip I learned on pricking out seedlings: Hold them by their leaves, not stems, when you transplant them. I’ve snapped stems before in transit — a tragedy. But the leaves will regrow, so there’s no real harm in tearing one off while repotting.
As I’ve mentioned before, one of my goals for this season is to grow fewer, healthier plants. To do that, I have to get real about how many plants I can actually fit in my little plot. And to do that, I have to know the dimensions of the space I’m working with.
I’m embarrassed to say that in the last two years I worked this plot, I never bothered to measure it. I finally took its dimensions last weekend. I now know I’m working with a space that’s 14.5 feet by 9 feet — actually bigger than I expected. The beds are all roughly two of the beds are 3 ft x 9 ft and one is 3 ft x 10 ft.
Now that I’ve measured the dimensions, I know I need to boot the row of mustard out of the bed and into a container so that the other plants can have the room they need. It feels really good to have this information and make more realistic plans.
Along with planning, I’m continuing to sow my spring crops. On Saturday, I sowed rapini, echinacea, and Little Gem lettuce (a delicacy!) indoors.
It was tantalizing to get my fingers in the soil this weekend. I had to restrain myself from spending all day weeding and pruning plants that don’t yet need pruning. All in due time! The main thing now is to keep those seedlings rolling along. If you need me, you can find me hovering over my seed trays, spray bottle in hand.