The calendar says March 1st, and despite waking up to 6 inches of snow on the ground, I knew it was time to start my tomato seeds. I like to do this task on March 1st because I like to transplant my tomato seedlings on May 1st. The seedlings need about 8 weeks of growing time before being transplanted out in the garden beds, and this schedule seems to work out well for me and my garden.
Having said this, I almost backed out of the chore when I opened the front door and that first wave of cold air rushed past me. But since I had to feed and water the animals anyway, I figured I might as well plunge on ahead, or in this case, outside. The greenhouse was bound to feel cozy after trudging around the homestead in the wind and the snow.
As I finished my chores and stepped inside the warm greenhouse, I realized that (once again) I was right--it did feel cozy in there. So, I dusted the snow off of me and happily slipped on my gardening gloves. Suddenly it felt like Spring, and just as suddenly, I felt like planting something.
Having said this, I almost backed out of the chore when I opened the front door and that first wave of cold air rushed past me. But since I had to feed and water the animals anyway, I figured I might as well plunge on ahead, or in this case, outside. The greenhouse was bound to feel cozy after trudging around the homestead in the wind and the snow.
As I finished my chores and stepped inside the warm greenhouse, I realized that (once again) I was right--it did feel cozy in there. So, I dusted the snow off of me and happily slipped on my gardening gloves. Suddenly it felt like Spring, and just as suddenly, I felt like planting something.
I like to make things as easy as possible, so I tend to sow seeds as simply as I can. Henceforth, I sow my seeds the way most commercial growers do--each variety as a group in a tray, not in individual containers. It's much easier than finding room for and keeping track of thousands of cell packs, each with one seed inside that may or may not sprout. The growers' way saves space and time, and when the seedlings do emerge and the tray becomes too small to contain them all, they transplant the little sprouts to their own little pots. Makes sense to me, so that's the way I do it too...on a much smaller scale of course. Here's how it happens:
I fill a shallow container with soil, moisten it with water, and sprinkle on the seeds.
I fill a shallow container with soil, moisten it with water, and sprinkle on the seeds.
I aim for a little space between each seed, but if two land close together I just scoot them over to a better spot. We all need our space, and seeds are no different. Shocking, I know. On the other hand, if I think I'm wasting space in a big tray, I divide the tray up into sections and then sow different seeds in each section. It's all about balance...which honestly I can't say I'm particularly gifted in. But I try.
Once I've got enough seeds sown, I spread a light layer of soil over them all and gently press down to firm the soil. This gives the seeds good soil contact on every side, and removes any major air pockets that might have been hiding. Then I sprinkle the entire container with water, just enough to dampen that top layer. Finally, I label the trays with the name and date (I use painter's tape and a sharpie for this, but you do what works for you) and place all the trays on the upper shelf of the greenhouse. Seedlings like to be warm, and since heat rises--at least it did the last time I checked, this upper shelf tends to be the warmest spot in the greenhouse. It's also the closest shelf to the glass roof, and that helps magnify the heat even more. The seeds also like to be moist, and generally there's enough moisture inside the greenhouse to fulfill their needs, but I do occasionally check the soil just to be sure.
If you don't have an upper shelf in your greenhouse, or even (gasp) no greenhouse at all, I'll add you to my prayer list...and I'll let you in on a little secret: You can still sow seeds. Just cover the container with plasticwrap to trap in the moisture, stick the whole thing somewhere warm (like on top of your fridge), and forget about it for several days. Most seeds don't need light to germinate, so as long as they're warm and moist they'll do what they naturally do--sprout. And that's our ultimate goal, right? After all, if seeds don't sprout then they can't grow. And if they can't grow, they can't produce all those ripe juicy tomatoes that we can't live without. Oh, what an awful thought! Sorry to depress you, and by "you" I mean me.
So to make up for making you read those disturbing sentences, let's do something to make ourselves feel better...how about looking at this:
If you don't have an upper shelf in your greenhouse, or even (gasp) no greenhouse at all, I'll add you to my prayer list...and I'll let you in on a little secret: You can still sow seeds. Just cover the container with plasticwrap to trap in the moisture, stick the whole thing somewhere warm (like on top of your fridge), and forget about it for several days. Most seeds don't need light to germinate, so as long as they're warm and moist they'll do what they naturally do--sprout. And that's our ultimate goal, right? After all, if seeds don't sprout then they can't grow. And if they can't grow, they can't produce all those ripe juicy tomatoes that we can't live without. Oh, what an awful thought! Sorry to depress you, and by "you" I mean me.
So to make up for making you read those disturbing sentences, let's do something to make ourselves feel better...how about looking at this:
Your welcome.
I'm pretty sure you're in love with me now...or at least with the tomatoes. Either way, I feel better.
I'm pretty sure you're in love with me now...or at least with the tomatoes. Either way, I feel better.