Garden
Thirty pots on the windowsill
I said I would sow ten. The seed packet disagreed.
Astrid Voss
Every February I promise myself a modest season. Then I open the drawer with the seed packets and every one of them looks like a good idea. Thirty pots later the kitchen windowsill is a nursery and I eat breakfast standing up.
Most come up in a week. A few take their time and I check them twice a day like a nervous parent.
The thinning
This is the part I hate. Two seedlings in one pot, and one has to go. I pull the weaker one and feel like a tyrant. Then I sow another tray to make up for it.
