Can I pretend it’s spring yet?

London has had a horrific, slow, agonizing ascent into the potential of warm weather. These past two weeks have been so bitterly cold I thought my extremities were going to drop off during my commute. Needless to say, turning over a garden patch is damn difficult when the ground is frozen solid. But we had packs of seeds, some compost, and it was the appropriate time to plant them so that they’ll actually germinate and become baby plants. Then, eventually, when the ground thaws and the threat of frost passes (in, oh, June), we’ll be able to plant the seedlings.

And then they’ll be eaten by slugs. Despite my carefully strewn crushed eggshells. But that’s besides the point.

The point is, we stood in the laundry room and played in the dirt on Sunday, and it was lovely. IMG_0922 IMG_0924 IMG_0925

 

Now these trays of potted seeds, carefully dug to the appropriate number of centimeters and the correct number of seeds, live in the airing cupboard. For now. The cupboard is warm enough to actually get some germination going, but I want to move them as soon as seedlings start sprouting, so they can get the sunlight they need.

But seriously, any time spring wants to show up.

Anytime.

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