It's time to harden off the seedlings. It's time to send the babies into the cruel hard world that is called 'THE GREAT OUTDOORS'. It's time to regain control of the greenhouse for Round Two seed planting.
It was raining at 6.30 this morning so I thought 'Ideal time to get the seedlings outside and toughen 'em up a bit.' I scanned the skies for plant-eating vultures and the ground for plant- eating slugs (although I think our garden is a slug-free zone, thanks to Missus Miggins, Pumphrey, Slocombe and Poo). Having established that all was safe (for the next 10 minutes at least -I don;t want to tempt Fate vis a vis slugs) I put the larger tomato, peppers, aubergines and jalapenos outside for their first taste of rain and fresh air. They immediately went flat under the weight of all that drizzle but now, as I write this, the sun has come out and they are standing tall and straight and looking cockily independent.
It's a bit nerve-wracking, this 'hardening off' process. You've spent weeks carefully nurturing tiny specks of seed to tiny green shoots, then pairs of leaves, then a bit of a sturdy stem and then another pair of leaves so it's natural, I suppose, to feel a bit wary about sending them out to survive the elephants, I mean elements. It's like when your children leave home. When Chris went to live with his girlfriend, (after we'd had a serious discussion about how his lifestyle was clashing with ours and wouldn't it be a GOOD THING to maybe find somewhere to conduct his young adult lifestyle so I wouldn't have to keep nagging him and subjecting him to much tutting and sighing in my middle-aged old fart kind of way) I wouldn't hear from him for days on end. I would think, 'He's lying dead in a ditch somewhere,' or 'He's poisoned himself with his home cooking.' It didn't help that he rarely responded to text messages. But he survived and thrived and, over a year on, all is well. (Aside from the time his house caught fire and another time when he was burgled. But he handled these crises admirably and told me about them in a calm and resigned voice which, ultimately, prevented me panicking on his behalf.)
Same with Heather. She went off to university nearly three years ago. She has coped with and survived a number of aggravations that come with learning to be independent. She has been stopped by a policeman for cycling without lights. There have been only two occasions when I've had to fight my maternal instinct to go and rescue her from domestic altercations. She is now a competent 'can-doer' and heaven help anyone who gets in her way!
And so with the seedlings. They can't grow and develop and produce their goods if they are holed up and cossetted in a warm geenhouse, being fed and watered on a regular basis and protected from the wind and rain and the heat of the sun. Of course, as with my children, I shall be there to help and support them when the going gets really tough. That's what being a caring human being is all about. (Children, if you are reading this, I DO NOT include the Bank of Mum and Andy in this equation. I am talking about the things that money can't buy like wisdom, a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, a homemade cake, invites to dinner and occasional baby-sitting when the time comes). I shall water the seedlings if we have a drought. I shall keep the weeds at bay. I shall keep the soil in good condition so the plants can grow to their best.
I suppose the main difference between the children and most veg plants is that the plants are annual. They need looking out for for one year only. Unlike the children. I mean, Heather came home yesterday for a 2 week Easter break before her final exams. And immediately started sitting on the sofa, eating chocolate fudge cake and frittering toilet roll! I expect she'll be wanting use of the shower next.
As an additional point of joy in this season of Easter, it has been three days since the chickens took up residence in Cluckinghen Palace and ALREADY the grass is starting to re-grow on the remainder of the lawn! We found a whole tuft yesterday. Not quite enough to sunbathe on but I reckon by this time next month our back lawn might have made a bit of a comeback!
Oh I do sympathise. Two mysteries which will not be solved this side of the next world are: what my stepdaughter does with loo roll, and how she spends that half-hour in the shower. At least with seedlings you can decently watch (or videocam if necessary) them 24/7.
ReplyDeletei object to this constant insinuation that I am the only person who uses toilet paper! I refuse to believe that you don't use ANY while I am not here, and feel like this is unfair victimisation! In protest I may actually start living up to the frittering of it that I 'apparently' already do!
ReplyDeleteps. the fudge cake was lovely, ta mum :)
It's not an insinuation, me deario, it's an ACCUSATION based on scientific FACT ie. I have to buy a disproportionately larger amount of loo paper when you are home than when it's just me and Andy! And of course we use loo paper when you're not here - we haven't quite descended to dock leaves in our pitch for self-sufficiency (but never say never, eh??)
ReplyDeleteHowever, I am distressed that you feel victimised so I therefore draw a line under the bottom of the loo roll issue. (Did you see how I sneaked the word 'bottom' in there? It's because I am a skilled wordsmith, y'know!)