When I seeded my first crop for the Fall, I worked willy-nilly, not really paying close attention to the directions on the back of the seed packet. I mean, really. Who needs to follow the directions on the seed packet?
Well, I have the answer, folks. The only people who need to follow the directions on the seed packet are people who want their seed to actually sprout and, eventually, turn into something edible.
Funny how that works.
After my Pilates instructor, Elesa, gave me the suggestion to try the lettuce planting again, I screwed up my courage.
I didn’t actually go buy seeds or anything, just walked around with my screwed up courage for about two weeks. Then I bought seeds. This time, I bought three kinds of lettuce, and, truth be told, I’ve already forgotten what varieties I bought. As far as I’m concerned, the only variety I’m looking for is live, edible lettuce. You know, the kind that actually comes out of the seed, breaks the surface, and maybe even makes it to a salad bowl someday.
This time, I picked four areas: three for the lettuce, and one for the arugula. I used my trusty spade to turn the dirt, just enough to loosen it up. Then, instead of using my failed approach of digging down and dropping in the seed, I just scattered each seed packet, one packet per spot, realizing as I scattered that I might be setting myself up for some kind of major thinning operation.
Then again, I do have the rabbit to help me with that, so I didn’t spend much time worrying about it.
Once I’d scattered the seed, I just ladled enough dirt to barely cover the seeds, tamping it down just enough to be sure it wouldn’t blow away and leave the seeds exposed. Then I watered everything and crossed my fingers that things would work a little better this time.
Go figure. A week later, I had three little thickets of lettuce, and a crazy patch of arugula. Bring the salad, little seedlings. Bring the salad.