Fun fact: I wrote this last week. It’s now freezing. But I came prepared with lots of plastic doo-dads to cover the planted babies, so it’s going to be okay. As we all freeze to death. In April in Tennessee.
When this publishes, it’ll officially be past the frost date in this ol’ USDA Plant Hardiness Zone (7a if you’re wondering, find yours here). Technically, there’s still a 50% chance of any particular day having frost after this date, but it’s a good bet your plants will survive with cover.
SO. That means it’s planting time!
Actually, I had to jump the date a bit. I had a tray of plants that contracted some kind of fungus or mildew and they were slowly dying, one by one, each after the plant next to it had shriveled up and died.
As this was the tray containing my tomato plants, you can imagine my panic.
So, on the 10th, I plopped the most vulnerable of my babies into the ground, figuring that if I kept them in the tray until the 15th, they’d die of fungus instead of frost. Admittedly, neither seemed like a nice way to go, but I calculated that covered, they had a better shot of surviving in the garden than in the trays.
This, of course, was after a load of mulch magically showed up at my house (Pete did it) and we, as a family, spent the evening joyously wheelbarrow-ing load after mulchy-smelling load into the garden to create our paths.
That’s not hyperbole. The Boy loved it and I loved watching him love it.
He especially enjoyed “beating me” back to the truck each time we needed a new load. One time, I took off running and he screamed at me, “No, Mom! Stop! Me first!” The panic was real.
It’s been so very fun to do this project with him. We rush out and check our sprouts when we get home in the evening, he asks if he can plant plants and give them away to friends, he argues with me over tomato and pepper cage placement, he loves his red wheelbarrow, and he can’t wait until we have flowers and vegetables to pick.
You know what’d be amazing, though? If he ate literally any of them. <insert eye roll> One of our parenting goals in 2018 was to get The Boy eating a single type of vegetable. We’ll get there, sweet boy.
And I? I behave like some kind of weirdo, running home at lunchtime on Wednesdays to visit my garden. “Nope. Nothing has changed. Maybe after work?”
So, for now, we have a sparsely planted garden with nicely mulched paths, some seeds in the ground, and a lot of hope.
(And a dirty old house that needs painted.)
See you soon!