GERMINATION!!!

A couple of weeks ago, Dennis finally ripped out most of the summer's tomato plants. A few aging vines that had been tucked into a corner of the yard still remain, but, for the most part, this year's tomato extravaganza can only be relived by pulling a container of puree from the freezer and defrosting.

As you surmised, I was more than ready for those tired, whithered plants to go. But not without a fond farewell. Many of this year's tomato plants showed great aptitude and surpassed all of our expectations. But of late, they were saggy and parched. California summers are brutal, and those plants were weathered, long past their prime.

With the tomato obsession in abeyance, we could focus on a new season. Dennis stirred up the loamy contents of his compost bin and refreshed our raised beds with some dense brown earth material. Meanwhile, I grabbed the graph paper, sketched in our existing planting space, consulted the back of the seed packs, and formed a plan. Then, I carefully tucked seeds just under the dirt's surface -- two types of lettuces, kale, sugar snap peas, carrots, and an Argentinian green called achicoria from a seed envelope that a friend had shared with me.

I carefully studied how much sun each crop demanded and placed the seeds in what I hoped was the best possible neighborhood for each type of plant. Location, location, location -- never truer words than when endeavoring to grow something. I know this from my many past failures, including several of my kids' science fair projects, which went awry because none of us could germinate a simple bean.

Maybe the conditions in our yard are just better now -- more conducive to success -- with the raised beds and the compost and all, because I'm here to report that 20 days after burying tiny seeds, we have germination! Itty bitty little lettuce leaves, minuscule tips of kale, tiny pea shoots, and carrot tops are all breaking through. I'm stupidly proud.

Tomorrow's plan is to thin the young crops, a random and capricious exercise that calls for a devil-may-care approach and great trust that the plants left behind will live long and prosper.

But I'm game for the task. If any seedling gives me the slightest scowl, he's history.

P.S. If you're wondering what's happening with the South Laguna Community Garden (the subject of the previous post), an invitation has been extended to Michelle Obama in the hopes that she'll make a very special appearance at the garden's opening cermonies. No harm in dreaming big.