Posts Tagged ‘Gayla Trail’

New Beginnings


Tomorrow is my birthday.

So, it seems only fitting that as I prepare to spend another year in this skin, I should reflect on what it is I’m planning to do in the coming months, particularly in relation to gardening.

With the exception of the various forms of root stock I ordered (potatoes, sunchokes and asparagus) all of my seeds have arrived.  I spread them out on the kitchen table last night and simultaneously felt surges of fear and excitement.  There’s something rather exhilarating about the potential of this year’s garden with the many unknowns I’m introducing into the equation, but at the same time I can also see the immense amount of work all of the seed packs represent.

Of course, the few months between receiving the seeds and actually planting them into the ground is excruciatingly painful for someone as impatient as I am.  There is the distraction of starting the seeds in the basement, but that is just a temporary solution, which is why I invariably end up going back to the seed catalogues that keep showing up at my door and ordering more.  In fact, immediately after I placed the orders for all of the seed packets that you see above, another Richter’s magazine (ironically) showed up, attempting to entice me into purchasing again.  To date I haven’t caved, but only because I’m not sure whether I realistically have room for all of the things I’ve already bought.  Regardless of that concern, I’m sure before May rolls around there will be a few more seed orders arriving at my door.

As an added bonus, the company that sent me the seeds on the very left (Heritage Harvest) included a free package of tomato seeds with my order, and I’m very intrigued by them.  They’re called Henderson’s Wins All and apparently this heritage variety grows grotesquely massive 2-3 pound specimens.  While some of you may be aware of my fascination with all things tiny and squee, I’m also (surprisingly) amazed by those biggest vegetable ever contests that people hold every harvest season.  Between the Sicilian Saucer (another 3 pound beast) and this new Henderson’s I think I’m going to have giantesse all wrapped up this year.  I’m expecting it’ll be a very Alice In Wonderland-esque garden with all of the tiny cherry tomatoes being dwarfed by these 2 oversized plants.


Forest Floor In Miniature


As the days continue to idly drift by, I’m no closer to getting my seedlings in the ground.

It’s not entirely my fault, though.  As I’ve mentioned previously, I’ve been having some difficulty locating a garden centre that can deliver the quantities of dirt, mulch and compost I require without just dumping them on a front lawn I don’t have.  The most promising supplier I found advised me this morning that for whatever reason they don’t deliver to Toronto.  Now I normally love a challenge, but this is becoming a farce.  I need bagged, (not loose) dirt, and it has to be of excellent quality, without chemicals or fertilizers mixed in.  When it comes to homegrown produce I’m a purist, and I like to know exactly what is in the stuff that receives all of my hard labor.  I don’t think that’s too much to ask…

The basement artichoke plants are becoming spiky and menacing, and the tomatoes so tall that they’ve almost hit the lights.  The roots expanded beyond their individual toilet paper prisons and are on the verge of intertwining with each other; it will become an inevitability if I don’t act fast.

I should’ve planted out the beets and salad greens already, but without dirt that seems somewhat fruitless.  Instead I rounded up a small container of dirt that’d been sitting out in the elements all winter and used it to plant a lilliputian lettuce garden in the kitchen window.  I originally read about the idea (credited to Gayla Trail of You Grow Girl) here, and since I wanted to get early lettuce greens sometime soon, it seemed like the perfect distractionary project.  Check out the difference just a few hours can make.  It’s really quite spectacular.

Now all I need is some dirt and to wake up in the morning and find they’ve morphed into edible-sized sprouts.