In a few weeks now almost any garden center you enter will have nice strong-stalked tomato plants for you to purchase and transplant in your garden. This year I thought I'd give the old-fashioned way a try and satisfy my early planting urges in the process. Three weeks ago I was thrilled when little shoots started poking their heads up out of the soil, and even more thrilled a week later when the bell peppers started doing the same. Since it was working, I decided to go ahead and plant the rest of the seeds. Then last week I forgot to bring them back inside at night, thus allowing Lucy & Linus to do what they love to do best: empty any container within their reach. So my nicely separated plant containers (the ones that survived) are no longer separated. And by the end of this month when it comes time to plant them outside, who knows whether or not I'll be able to recognize the difference between a pepper plant and a tomato plant.
IF.
That's the operative word. For my tomato plants, as pretty and green as they are, are down-right wimpy. You water them, they collapse. Most of them revive later, but not all. Their stalks are just so puny. Perhaps as they grow they'll strengthen, but at this moment I'm not overly optimistic. So for all my time, by the end of this month I may wind up at Hudson's purchasing tomato plants.
I suppose I could go to the Hardware store and simply ask Mrs. Hudson what to do (she runs the garden center), but then I would have to walk by all the little peeps (and they're selling Auracaunas this year!). We've loaned out the brooder box and I don't have the old dog pen fixed up and heaven forbid I walk past those tubs of little peeps and come home with white leghorn chicks and more Auracaunas. (I mean, the new Auracaunas might be the ones to lay pink or yellow eggs instead of blue and green, right? And we don't have a white egg layer in our flock.)
Spring...this is the part about it that I don't love.
IF.
That's the operative word. For my tomato plants, as pretty and green as they are, are down-right wimpy. You water them, they collapse. Most of them revive later, but not all. Their stalks are just so puny. Perhaps as they grow they'll strengthen, but at this moment I'm not overly optimistic. So for all my time, by the end of this month I may wind up at Hudson's purchasing tomato plants.
I suppose I could go to the Hardware store and simply ask Mrs. Hudson what to do (she runs the garden center), but then I would have to walk by all the little peeps (and they're selling Auracaunas this year!). We've loaned out the brooder box and I don't have the old dog pen fixed up and heaven forbid I walk past those tubs of little peeps and come home with white leghorn chicks and more Auracaunas. (I mean, the new Auracaunas might be the ones to lay pink or yellow eggs instead of blue and green, right? And we don't have a white egg layer in our flock.)
Spring...this is the part about it that I don't love.
Comments