Seeds-in-dirt time

Seeds in bags, with a bucket of dirt in the background.
(Don't you think it's funny that I use a laundry-soap
bucket to hold dirt?)

It's that time of year again.  Time to put seeds in dirt.

I get less and less terrified of the process every year.  What the heck, I've already killed so many plants, a few more won't make me cry. I've also raised a surprising number of miracles, and have learned to just keep stuffing tiny little specks into the ground until something, suddenly succeeds.  When something does succeed, it's delicious.

Plus, I have more seeds than I know what to do with.  They're not going to grow in my drawer, so if they're going to die anyway, I might as well let them die in dirt.    Oh, and I also have a bucket of dirt for them to die in.  Unless they don't die, in which case I get to do a little happy dance, and eat things.

So, per my usual mid-March routine, I pulled a few dozen empty canning jars out of the basement.  Add dirt, add seeds, add water.  Put lids lightly on top to keep the moisture in.  Put the jars in the "school bus" that I trash picked from my neighbor's curb last summer, and stick the whole shebang in a southern window.

Catchin' the rays, man.

I planted a dozen jars of tomato seeds.  I also planted a different dozen jars of . . . something else.  They might be tomatoes, or maybe peppers; the envelope wasn't labeled, and I'm not entirely sure.  I tell you, it's seeds in dirt.  Something will happen, or it won't.  If it happens, I'll eat it.

I love this time of year.