Dirt Won't Hurt!

I doubt many of these will actually make it to the kitchen.

Doesn't matter if you're a veteran gardener or just starting out, late winter is prime time for the condition known as Spring Fever.  Symptoms include poring over seed and plant catalogs and pining away for the colorful beauties that you're sure would make your yard look like a magazine cover.  Personally, I like to hoard seed packets like other women hoard shoes.  I'm not that interested in stilettos or wedge sandals, but get glassy-eyed over heirloom tomatoes and flowers. 

Rosemary by the garden gate. 

Every year I do my best to plan carefully, as my raised beds have limited space and the greenhouse will get unbearably hot around May.  The grow boxes are a wonderful solution to the limited shelf space and variable greenhouse conditions.  I know the temperature will stay consistent, and the seeds will get plenty of light. 

Still, there's plenty of room to stay flexible.  For example, the baby lettuces I've transplanted in the greenhouse are already looking a tad wilted.  They're tender little things, and hate too much heat.  So unless there's a freak ice storm coming, they may have to go into a raised bed faster than expected. 

Gotta love Arkansas weather.

I really shouldn't complain, knowing that some folks up North won't be able to put things out for another month, and even then it's a big gamble.  I've grown collards and kale over the winter in the past, never really worrying about them succumbing to the cold or snow.  The snow melts off after a day, anyway.  And one ice storm a season won't kill my year-round residents.

With Jon being home a few days this time, it's refreshing to get out in the light and fresh air.  It's even exhilarating, with a cold drink on hand and Credence Clearwater Revival blasting on my outdoor speaker. 

Tulips starting to peek out of their mulch blanket.

Mostly, it feels damn good to be doing something creative and constructive that doesn't involve wiping someone's butt.  I love my girls, but being cooped up with them in the house the past two months was starting to get to me.  I don't mind having babies in winter, but it does make for some serious cabin fever.

So I brought Evie out with me once she got up from her nap.  Even wearing play clothes, it took awhile to convince her that it was okay to get dirt and water on them.  She then proceeded to snitch my tools for the very important task of digging for worms, before helping me sow radishes and sugar snap peas.

Growing things in the garden was one huge tradition I couldn't wait to pass onto my kids.  Even living in an apartment building with only four to eight square feet of dirt, my mom always made sure we had something planted.  In fact, my sister and I used to hunt nightcrawlers there and sell them for bait to an older neighbor of ours.  It was one of those spaces, no matter how small, that are very evocative of childhood for me.  And when I got married and started having kids, I made the same vow:

No matter where we live, or how rich or poor we are, we will grow things. 

And so, the greenhouse and grow boxes are full of good things waiting to happen.  Mistakes will be made, like they are every year, and wonderful discoveries will be made.  The best part, is that this time around, I get to see them through my daughter's awestruck eyes.