Getting out there

My ladies now look as though they are all captivated in a good book. Peas are officially my (current) favorite thing to grow. I'm even going to try to like eating them. At this point, though, I don't care what they taste like. Not only are they gorgeous, but they're little confidence boosters. See? I can grow something.

A close second (and third) would be potatoes and garlic. Not as exhilarating because they didn't come from seed, but still making a grand splash in an otherwise inauspicious brown garden.

The onions are hanging in there in a way that has me feeling guilty. Like, they have a will to live and if I could just figure out what I'm doing wrong they would kick things into gear and thrive. So I tell them I'm working on being a better gardener, but until then, they are just going to have to figure things out on their own. A few have given up completely in disgust, but a large number of them are still considering it. Good luck little alliums, wish I could help.

I've decided it is time for the tomatoes to leave the nest. I think the hubs is worried I might be jumping the gun on these needy little things so he has even taken to helping me bring the flats in and out. But if they are going to survive in the ground, I don't want us to be hauling them everywhere superfluously. I will be holding several flats back just in case, though. Basically, I'm just decreasing the number of trips I have to make up and down the steps morning and night. One might say I am sacrificing the seedlings prematurely out of laziness. And I would have no response to that.

My herbs all seem to have something against me. Perhaps they've somehow discovered I mean to cook them one day. Aren't herbs the kind of thing you have children grow because they are so easy? Maybe my 5 and 6 year olds will have better luck than I.  

I'm wondering if everything is moving along so slowly because it still isn't quite warm. The hubs is willing it to be by opening windows and dressing the children in short sleeves, but he can be meteorologically delusional, I've found. Vague notions of chemical reactions needing heat as a catalyst are trying to poke their way into my obstinate brain. The thing is I want it to be warm enough for everything to grow. And if I were a Floridian or a Californian, it would be. Where is the justice in that, America?