It is the end of January and the seed catalogues have started arriving on mass. That means the planting season is only three months away, unless you plant indoors first then it is only two months away. With the arrival of each catalogue I feel that stirring within to go dig in the dirt. Of course I can't dig in the dirt right now so the agitation just keeps building until I am ready to explode.
It is this built up frustration that gets me in trouble in April, when the snow first starts melting and I can actually see the dirt in the garden. I always plant to early and lose half of what I plant. I should plant indoors and transplant in May, but planting indoors is a dangerous task. With twelve cats, and now a ferret, the seeds barely get above the soil before they become snacks or worse yet the tray of dirt becomes a litter pan.
I did have a small indoor greenhouse that worked okay, until the cats figured out how to get under the plastic cover. It also took up more room that I liked, especially since we don't have a lot of extra room to begin with. But beggars can't be choosers, this has become my personal motto this year, and I will have to get the greenhouse out of the garage and try it again this year.
The longer I look at the seed catalogues the more varieties of seeds I want to plant. Of course this never works out well for the garden. You can only plant so many seeds in the small space we have but every year I squeeze the rows ever tighter in an attempt to get more out of little. You know the saying about squeezing blood from turnips? It works, with a few modifications, for the garden too. You can't squeeze twelve rows out of an eight foot garden plot. You can plant them but they sure won't work well once the plants start growing.
In the meantime I am keeping myself busy with sewing, nalbinding, and weaving the garb we need for our first meeting of the SCA. I'm also spending some time trying to create the armour I need to prevent injury, and bruises, at the weekly fight practices. While these projects and activities keep my hands occupied they do nothing to still the insistent whisper in my mind that it is almost time to plant again.