A year in the life of a seed addict
Wednesday, 11 May 11 Overcast 11°C / 52°F
My name is Aquilegia, and I am a seed addict. Here is what that looks like.
Everything is in bloom. Dear God, I have a lot of gorgous flowers here. This is stunning. I know, I’ll carefully collect seeds from everything. Why, I’ll never have to buy more seeds ever again. I am so smart.
Oh no, frost! No more gardening for this year. But I’ll console myself on my favourite seed company websites. I won’t buy anything, but…
Did you see that? This company over there has seeds for an amazing flower I ought to get. Also, I should focus on fragrant flowers / drought resistant flowers / edible things / heritage things / native plants / some other element, and I don’t have enough of that. I’ll just order ten seed packs and it will all be ok.
Woe is me, the snow has come. I must keep hope alive and believe there will be a summer again. Oh look, the seed company website has a sale / has a new thing / has something I should have bought ages ago. And so cheap! Here, pass the wine, dear. I’m just ordering a few things from the seed company, and then I’ll go to bed. And also, I could put a new flower bed over there, and it would be empty, and then I’d need so many seeds to fill it up, and, and, and.
Friends and family have heard that I’m partial to seeds, so they give me seeds. Lots of them. It’s a little overwhelming.
Oh my goodness, I have a stupid number of seed packages. This is insane. How did this happen? I have enough seeds to cover 10 times the land we have.
What I need here is strategy. I’m not going to save all this seed until next year, because what if it the germination rate goes way down by then? Also, what if I die in the winter? I don’t want to die knowing that last year’s seeds didn’t get sown. No, must sow seeds. Scatter them, that’s the ticket. Scatter them everywhere.
Done. Whew. Seed scattered madly; bullet dodged. Will anything sprout?
Profusion of flowers! This is amazing, this is stunning! Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow. I know, I’ll save seeds. After this, I’ll never need to buy seeds again.
Rinse. Lather. Repeat.
Only this year will be different.
- This is the earliest journal.