Lavender is in full bloom and a busy meeting spot for smaller bees. The grass in the two new patches recently reseeded looks like it may soon be ready to meet the lawn mower.
Meanwhile, I’ve been carefully tinkering with what now amounts to about 50 seedlings in peat pellets and peat pots. I started with planting tomato seeds in late January, followed by any seed packets in the cupboard that said they could be planted 12-14 weeks before last frost.
But this year I’m wondering why I go to all that bother.

I know in some years from my past, planting seeds was some ritual of hope. I took pride in fussing to keep the peat pellets moist and delighted each time I saw the brave plants taking a peek at the world in February and early March.
I felt a responsibility for their welfare and was happy to share the extras with friends.

Yet, this year I’m thinking maybe there’s a reason there are people who do this professionally.
First off, pros have greenhouses. They also likely have those warming blankets that sit under the container to help coax the seedlings into the world.
Or maybe I’m just at a time in my life (40 this month) when I want instant gratification.
Last weekend I went away for a few days, to visit my dad in the Bay Area. I wasn’t worried about the new cat. He would be fine with a big bowl of food and water and his cat box.

However, I needed to enlist my friend Kara to come over and tend the fussy seedlings.
Peat dries out quickly, so every morning I have been checking if they are dry. Once the seeds sprout, I uncover them and rotate one quarter turn each day.
Recently the plants are hardening off, which means they are taken outside for several hours. If nighttime temperatures are cool, I bring them back inside. If it’s too windy out, I put them close to the house.
After months of tending, I wasn’t about to let all that work be for naught if one hot day or a brisk wind made them wilt back into nothing.

Kara was great; the plants survived.
But then you can go to the farmers market and see plants five times as large and ready to go. Someone else, presumably with professional equipment, spent the time to water and watch, rotate and worry.
It would have been much easier just to have waited until now when I could spend $10 on five six-packs of annuals that could go in the ground right now, filling up those spots that have been carefully guarded with a layer of mulch all winter.

Another big lesson on this has been the foxglove. Last year I enjoyed them so much that I saved the seed stalks, which were filled with teeny, tiny seeds. Following my own advice, I planted them in September in the windowsill. They sprouted and now fill the three-inch pots.
Miraculously, they made it through the fall and winter, patiently waiting inside my bay window.
Also in September, I unceremoniously dumped the remainder of the foxglove stalks in an empty part of the yard shaded by the privet that grows near the alley.
It was months before I even noticed that something was going on in that part of the yard. There was no hose-dragging or fussing.

As if they only grew at night, I found a large colony of foxgloves, about three times larger than the mess I have brewing in an old baking sheet now on my picnic table.
But I’ll have until next January to weigh all the pros and cons of seeds, and there will be more seed-planting soon.

I’ve learned from experience there are some seeds that just need to be sown outside.
California poppies, planted in the fall, have large tap roots that can go up to 15 feet into the ground. There’s no use in trying to contain that type of plant in a pot.

(In my experience, sunflowers are always best when planted by seed outdoors).

Sunflowers, likewise, will sprout and then grow several inches after a week. Nasturtium also does better just by plopping the seeds in the ground and hoping for the best.
Then there’s pumpkins, which seem to do just fine on their own, sprouting from the holes dug for compost.
If only all plants were that easy.