How to measure a season

Warm days return. Blackberry is blooming. I visit my community garden plot early in the morning else I wilt. I feel the pull to sow seeds before the summer solstice hits. There is a sense that I must hugely rush to get the plants going, to grow grow grow with the days getting longer, warmer, sunnier.

Here is an advantage of garden work, to be in sync with the cycles of the earth, the sense of day length, when the sun rises, when the sun sets, how the air fills in the shade, is there a chill or is the chill gone. When I think about it, these are subtle calculations, something sensed when I get up and think, it's time for the summer seeds to be sown else it may be too late. At the same time, I savor the blooms, the green, the air.

How to measure a season? It is about increased awareness, of living here on this earth, another way I treasure life, living, easily lost in the business of urban life. It is easy to forget the stars when I don't see them every day, even when they are always there. This way, I am connected to the stars, to the ground, the plants who clamor to grow. It is also about a greener life, growing your greens locally, saves on your carbon footprint.

And you. How do you measure your seasons?

Dealing with gardening procrastination

Funny, it almost felt like a clock was ticking, this dire need to get the tomato seeds going. But I was procrastinating big time this season for some reason. So I ended up doing what usually helps me in the past: I broke the task into microactions.
Details
Step one: find those darn tomato seeds. Since they are buried somewhere in the back of my fridge, stored in a plastic box inside a plastic freezer bag, this might have turned into a project of its own. But I forged ahead and it was actually pretty simple and easy.
Step two: figure out which ones to use. The hardest step because I have so many to choose from and very little space to plant. I narrowed it down to six varieties.
Step three: find the pieces to the task. The sterile potting soil, the cups to plant them in, the wooden labels, and the containers to put the cups in. I finally found them hidden in the balcony storage.
Step four: fill the cups with soil and then water. I let them sit overnight to make sure the soil is not too soggy and not too dry.
Step five: plant the seeds, make the labels, and rewater.

A week after planting, I have 5 out of 12 germinating (I planted two seeds each, I am a gambler). This year will be a minimalist tomato garden. I'm hoping I'll have one of each in the end: Sungold, Japanese Black Trifele, Momotaro, Ace, Black Cherry, Black Krim. These are ones I know can handle being in a coastal garden where the summers are cold and foggy and the sun doesn't shine much.

I'll keep you posted on how many germinates in the end. The Sungold and Black Trifele have germinated first, one Momotaro next.

What do you do to deal with gardening procrastination?

My secrets of gardening

So it's raining today which is why I am inside reading Gretchen Rubin's Happiness Project: Or Why I Spent A Year Trying To Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotole, and Generally Have More Fun,  almost out of breath here. Despite the overachieverish title, it has been a fun and fascinating read so far. When I got to Rubin's 'Secrets of Adulthood', p. 11 in my book, I had my own lightbulb moment. I have my own list, we can call it my 'Secrets of Gardening' as inspired by Gretchen Rubin. I'm sure you have your list as well. I think we all carry a list like this somewhere in our brains.

Here's mine so far, a work in progress.

Don't plant tomato seeds directly into the ground. Umm, don't laugh. I followed the directions on the back of a seed packet.

It helps to figure out what is your zone. Mine: USDA 11a. I now have a pretty good idea when to plant and what to plant.

I finally figured out what variety of tomatoes are happy in my zone. Mine: cool climate only.

Green beans and zucchini are summer plants. Do not snicker. I learned the hard way.

I can plant arugula all year but it doesn't grow really fast when it's cold despite what it says on the seed packet.

Nothing grows very fast when it's cold except for the sugar snap peas, radish and kale. And they could grow faster when it's warmer.

Crop rotation is a very good idea.

I must continually improve my soil: add compost and fertilize or face the consequences.

Soak your pea and bean seeds overnight before planting.

Those instructions on the back of the seed packet: take them with a grain of salt. See the tomato seed line above.

So what are your secrets of gardening?

Seed by seed

Last season here at Arugula Too, I planted my tomato seeds by early December. This season, well, this year has been quite different. Know I have been busy wandering all over the internet looking at blogs, collecting links about it, thinking about planting the tomato seeds, mulling about it over the coffee cup. Anything but the dirty deed. Funny, I have been reading Bird By Bird by Anne Lamott, a marvelous memoir about writing and life. To be a writer, reminds Lamott, requires a person to actually sit the body down and write at some point. An analogy she uses, hence the title of her book, was that you do it bird by bird. One very bright lightbulb turned on in a dimly lit brain: writing and gardening, oh the similarities! While I have been quite the fanatic about weeding out my nemesis, the false garlic, I was reminded of how far I have fallen off the wagon when it comes to starting the tomato seeds.

Here's the plan, defined in baby steps because baby steps is the best way for me to get going.
Step one: pull out the tomato seeds I plan to use. Step two: find the soil and the yogurt cups with holes in the bottom and the container to hold the yogurt cups. Step three: soil goes in cups. Step four: wet the soil over night. Step five: plant the seeds and water.

The unexpected gifts

I visit my community garden plot at least three times a week, usually in the morning before I start my day. As I open the gate and trod down the sandy path to my plot, I find myself slipping in to garden-mode, where I review my inner to-do list while I admire the quiet in the air and the smell of coffee from the shop across the street.

I'm curious about what new things I may find in my plot. Invariably, I need to check all the newly planted micro-spots while I mentally check off where I see new weeds, the false garlic or even the errant blackberry cane.

Then I collate my to-do list with whatever needs to be down now, today, asap, and off I go. Watering is usually the last item, especially if I've planted seeds or replanted something. Weeding is the first item on most days. Mucking around in the compost bin is somewhere on the list.

I find myself going into a zone most times than not, with minutes flying by quietly.

Aside from the obvious harvests from my garden, I find the gifts from my garden to be a place where I can zone into another space, calm and quiet.

What unexpected gifts do you get from your garden?