SEEDS OF HOPE

In as far as winter is concerned, at least for gardeners living in zones that have a chilly climate, enduring the winter doldrums is one long waiting period for the growing period to arrive. There are ways to deal with the withdrawal symptoms that accompany the temporary loss of feeling the earth between our fingers.

The month of March is the "dream month." The days are getting longer, the sun appears brighter and suddenly the seed catalogues start putting in appearances. These always colorful and beneficial publications could be considered the hope chest of horticultural aspirations. To thumb through the pages inspires us to achieve mastery over all that we grow, to assure successful results. At least it works that way in theory, anyway.

I've experienced minimal success when it came to starting plants from seed. It wasn’t the fault of the seeds since the problem lay with the cultivator.

Beginning seeds in peat cups, which are purported to be simplicity personified, never proved to be successful undertaking. Instructions include one seed per cup, add water and - voila - the embryo of a successful bed of flowers. It's the last part, the keep-seeds- in- cups-moist that gets me every time. The question in my mind was always the amount of liquid is required to keep cups moist and what's more, what exactly is moist? I mean, how wet is moist? Is it dry-wet, or really wet-wet? Let's just say that in the past, a large percentage of my seedlings fell victim to a flood of the over-watering kind. Those that managed to keep their tiny stalks above water eventually succumbed. There is nothing more pathetic than green-bordering-on-yellow, tiny, deformed, wilted stems laying on top of the earth in a water-logged peat coffin.

The next experience classified in the seemed-like-a-good-idea-at-the- time-category, was the result of reading a book of gardening hints, which suggested that Styrofoam egg cups would make good seed starters. This effort was a blow-off in the true sense of the word, since strong gale-force winds swept away the fruits of my labor, never to be seen again. Another attempt at seed starting in styrofoam cups proved to be a huge success with crows, who somehow discovered there was free food to be had with no strings attached. It wasn't long before they passed the word around to other neighborhood denizens including a squirrels. The scene was similar to the end result of a wild party with empty egg cartons strewn everywhere along with spilled earth. Chances were they all par-tied, heart-y at my expense.

Still, hope springs eternal in the human breast – and in peat cups.