But in the garden, I’ll take my chances

I’ve never been one to depend on chance.

The craps and roulette tables never tempt me as I pass through a smokey casino on a cruise ship. I scurry along to avoid smelling like cigarettes when I emerge on the other side. I learned gambling didn’t pay off for me when I played slots a few times about forty years ago in Vegas. A few casino tokens, two empty coin cups, and some watered-down free drinks were my only winnings.

Even so, this spring, I’m gambling!

On the weather.

Traditionally, because we live in Zone 6a, I should be waiting until Mother’s Day to take the seedlings out of my winter sowing jugs and gently cradle them into their assigned spots in the garden. Traditionally. But according to the Old Farmer’s Almanac, April 15 is now the average date. And that means I’m actually late!

Tradition aside, the weather has been so gorgeous this spring that yesterday hubby and I decided to get our hands dirty before another round of rain moved in. After all, he’s mowed the grass three times already, and the yard is calling for another round. The lilies are growing, and the tulips have finished their show.

And the fact that most of my winter sowing this year bombed has been nudging me to grieve their loss and make a plan of action. Instead of planting lovely three-inch plants and saving all that money by not buying them from the greenhouse, I’d either have to direct sow my leftover seeds or pick out nursery pots.

So what happened with the winter sowing?

My newfound technique skewered me.

This winter, when we set up our winter sowing assembly line, I suggested that Hubby cut the milk jugs all around. I’d heard this was a cheaper, better way to prepare the containers. He didn’t object, although he probably thought the old way was better. We were attempting to work together– elbow to elbow– on a project, not just divide and conquer it at different times. The idea was that each jug would be cut to have a base for the dirt and seeds and a “hat” to protect them. That was different from last year, when I cut the top of the jug to fold back like a hinged teapot lid. Then I duct taped the whole thing closed.

The new technique didn’t use duct tape. Instead, cutting the top completely off allowed the plastic hat to be crimped and shoved back inside the base when it needed to be protected from cold, rain, or snow. The hats were supposedly easier to remove when the weather got warmer and replace without another strip of duct tape when the cold returned.

It sounded good in theory, but in practice, it bombed.

The crimping of the hat meant that the plastic buckled and allowed cold, rain, and snow to drip right into the jug, saturate the soil, and make my milk jugs not-so-snug.

The result was that with the overly-wet spring, most of my seeds drowned in the dirty water before I realized the design problem and that the drainage holes weren’t working properly. I can’t count the times I pulled on my boots and braved the cold, wet weather armed with an ice pick to punch more holes in flooded milk jugs.

They were a rotting mess, and I was bummed.

So much for winter sowing veggies this year.

My love of gardening started with herbs, and I’ve only been carefully recording my vegetable gardening successes and failures for the past couple of years. The more we learn about growing edible vegetables, the more we’re switching up some things. Hubby and I have talked about them all winter. We need to replace some of the wood surrounding the beds— maybe with steel. And because our separate garden plots are small, every plant counts.

This year, I’m planning to use only one cattle panel in my raised bed, not two. Last year’s crap crop of zucchini- zucchini!!!– made me reconsider the amount of sun it got. I’m changing the lettuce bed, and the placement of several other veggies, too. And Hubby’s changed his tomato cultivars and placement in his 40’ X 3’ garden strip.

So with the rototilling done and the warm weather inspiring us, mid-week, we consulted a companion planting guide online, checked the jugs to see what was alive, made a list of what we needed– nearly everything–, and headed to our favorite local nursery.

Only $60 some dollars later, we had three kinds of tomatoes, three kinds of peppers, cauliflower, cukes, zucchini, spaghetti squash, marigolds, basil, cilantro, radish seeds, and a celery plant for fun. When we got home, I pulled out the bean, carrot, and Swiss chard seeds, and our work began!

Unfortunately, my two 4’ x 6’ raised beds for veggies were thick with thistles, so before I could plant anything, I had to use my garden knife to remove the prickly pests. BTW, if you don’t have a garden knife, get one! It’s the most versatile tool in my garden bag and was highly recommended by my fellow Master Gardeners. Consider getting a belt or sheath for it, too, so you don’t stab yourself when you need to use both hands. Take my word on that.

After we got home, Hubby had his tomatoes and marigolds in his beautifully prepared bed with the amended soil along the north fence and the cukes positioned for their cattle panel climb before I even moved to the little corner bed in my fenced garden. I couldn’t plant the cauliflower with the cattle panel in the way, so he removed it and changed the direction of the other for this year’s zucchini. That finished, as I still de-thistled, he kindly gathered the growing pile of weeds I created, and I finally tucked my plants into the ground as the sky darkened.

The raindrops fell as I gathered the empty plastic pots and my tools to put away. My muscles ached from all the bending, and I hadn’t had time to mulch between the plants, but the mulch pile was waiting behind the shed for another day. And as for watering, God would take care of that! Grimy fingers and sore muscles made for a satisfying day.

Next on my list: trying to recreate the native perennial flower cutting bed along the south side of the house. Artificial Intelligence may have created my design, but it’ll be up to me to find replacement seeds and get them started after the winter sowing fiasco. That’ll be a project for another week.