I've been terribly negligent in posting, which suggests we haven't been working in the garden. Then, I harangue David about posting more, and I slack off. What a hypocrit.
We have been working, and hard (especially David the Strong Wielder of Power Tools, and non-hypocrit), and spring is officially here. Well..."spring" in the Northeast. Spring in the South is a sublime experience; here it's fraught with anxiety. In Kentucky, the flowers are free to emerge steadily and breathlessly, stretching their stems and leaves, seeming to hum in a chorus of tiny sweet pink voices. Here, an occasional warm stretch will coax the daffodils and crocus from their grey beds -- and then suddenly a freak nor'easter will punish them for impertinence. They endure the rest of the season hunched nervously in the soil, never sure if they can bloom just yet.
The three-season porch has been an excellent home for our seedlings. Even though it's uninsulated (and the wind seeps in through the floor), the morning sun is brilliant through the wraparound windows and the seedlings are quite cozy on their table with a portable heater underneath. (Don't worry, Mom, it's a safety model.)
I'm continually delighted by the variety of shapes and colors of the seedlings, from spiky salvia to plump tom thumb lettuce to baby coleus with mini multi-variegated leaves. The shades of green defy nomenclature.
Ah...a miniature Southern Spring on our porch.