I wasn’t even going to write a post today. But then I read this blog post from ‘Sharpen your Spades’:
and the photos of the fingers in the compost made me need my greenhouse, and the compost and the seed-trays right now.
So off I dashed, with my packet of Cephalaria gigantea (giant scabious; creamy pincushion flowers; first time I’ve grown it; EXCITED!!!)
We haven’t even connected the water supply to the greenhouse yet this spring. There are leaves on the benches. The compost-mixing seivey set is still under the bench.
In my frenzy of excitement I found myself standing on three bags of compost, seven feet tall, tottering and waving my arms, assembling the compost-mixing seivey set. Why didn’t I just move the compost? Because I was in the zone. I needed my fix right now and could not wait a minute longer.
The advantage to sowing on the 19th February is that Stevie hasn’t got going yet, and I nabbed one of the module seed trays! Early bird and all that.
The compost is the cheapest 3-bags-for-ten-pounds jobbies. I had to jump down from my perch in order to rip it open (I hadn’t become so addled as to forget this). The advantage of the really cheap compost is that it is as light as a feather, so I could have lifted the whole bag over my head, with one finger, had I wanted to.
I could have soaked the compost at this point, but of course we have no water supply. “No matter!” I told myself, “I will simply spritz them when we return to the house!” Nothing, nothing, was going to dampen my mood and take away the pure joy that is the first sowing of the season.
I tore open the lovely paper Chiltern Seeds packet (no glossy plastic paper here!) in the style of Charlie Bucket opening a Wonka bar, tipped it up and counted out the little wonders inside. I may have caressed them and spoken soft words.
The burgeoning botanist in me noted that these scabious seeds are less like shuttlecocks than the Scabious atropurpurea I sowed last year (there was an unfortunate sneezing incident). These are flatter, and less likely to take flight.
Each one was lovingly tucked up in its little compost nest (no sharing a bed here – modules! First class treatment).
And then it was back to the house for the spritzer. You know it’s only February when it doesn’t hurt to pull the trigger. By April I have repetitive strain injury.
So here they are.
It was over so soon. It was a delicious rush. Did I dream it? Maybe I should go back and do it all again?
I’ll just add another gratuitous greenhouse shot. Can you smell the compost, with notes of old twine and bamboo cane and encrusted clay?