My friend just asked me, “Amber, do you do anything small?”

I believe I responded, “Yeah, I get a little obsessed.”

And I do. Let’s take my seed love for example. This winter, feeling blah from the cold and grey, I turned to the pages of the Seed Savers catalog. Filled with all sorts of summer promise, the pages called to me. I read that publication from cover-to-cover as my husband watched on in amazement. After reading aloud three descriptions of eggplants to him, he gave up and walked away. They all sounded the same to him. But to me, each one offered a nuance that I wished to experience.

Choosing seeds was hard enough. When they arrived, planting them seemed the easy part. Of course, every seed packet recommended you plant two or three seeds in case a few of them never sprouted. I carefully followed the instructions, set my many trays of seeds in nearly every available window of my house, and misted them gently with water from a spray bottle every day. My morning routine now had one more critical component.

When each tiny seed began to sprout, I experienced the joy of a child seeing her first kitten. I would squeal with delight, clap my hands, and run to find my husband to share the news. If he was at work, I would call him, sometimes five times a day, with updates. At breakfast time, the purple bell peppers might have yielded one new sprout. By lunchtime, a tomato and three cucumbers might have joined them. Each sighting felt as rare as spotting a bald eagle in the forest. Joy and elation can hardly express it.

As my seedlings grew, I realized the folly of my ways. Not only did I plant two or three seeds in each tiny container, but I planted at least nine containers for each type of plant. When it was all said and done, and every last seedling had sprouted, I was the proud parent of about 200 vegetable plants! And as a beaming mother, I could not yank a single species from its roots and let it die.

Thus, as winter turned to spring and I anxiously awaited my garden soil warming, I spent weekends outside repotting my tiny seedlings into somewhat larger peat pots, carefully labeling each one with a marker. Before I realized, I was hauling card tables in from the garage, plopping them in front of windows and covering every spare inch with seedlings. Instead of taking me a few minutes to mist them all in the morning, it now took about 20 minutes. As my summer dreams (plotted out in winter) stretched higher and higher, my life became intertwined with my plants.

I began my plea to friends, offering up free plants. I must have filled two dozen six-packs with nature’s bounty (great transporting containers for tiny pots!). Friends new and old made the trek to my house. With each visit, I thought my crop would surely be depleted. Yet, with each guest’s departure, my tables full of seedlings looked as crowded as ever. Dozens of gardens in town must now bear my vegetables, but I still have dozens left. I have planted my own garden, packing each veggie as close together as I dare. Yet, my bounty still overcrowds me.

My garden beds now full, I have started filling terra cotta pots on the back porch. Perhaps some peppers will sprout from there? I simply cannot bear to walk away and let them droop and shrivel.

Next year, I think I’ll plant only what I need. Then again, my husband will probably have to make me re-read this come winter. I’m sure I’ll be seed-crazy again by then!

Labels: garden, peat pot, planting, Seed Savers Exchange, seedling, seeds, vegetables

Oh dear! Where will I begin? My seed catalog has arrived from the Seed Savers Exchange. It’s better than strolling the grocery aisles on an empty stomach. It’s cold outside, but inside my catalog, it’s summer already. And the promise of that summer is overflowing with a bounty of colors and foods that is toying with my imagination and my hunger.

I want to buy them all!

Yet, our garden has limits. The hubby and I have already begun to make plans for watermelon growing between camellia trees in the side yard, or a zucchini plant tucked into the front landscape. After all, once you browse a seed catalog, there’s no turning back. Those measly offerings in the local nursery—with their 20 or 30 crops to choose from—suddenly pale as I discover a chocolate bell pepper with a brick red center, a “sunberry” whose flavor rivals a blueberry (and is twice the size), a tomato the color of sunshine, and a banana tree you can grow in your house.

How can I choose just one or two varieties? After all, I must stick to some staples: red bell peppers, purple eggplants, pesto basil. But what about the green eggplants? Or the purple potatoes from Peru? The varieties are endless, and my curiosity too deep.

My itch for spring grows. There are still sad leaves of spinach clinging to life in my winter garden and baggies of frozen peppers from last year’s harvest in the freezer, but already I long for those new summer veggies, hanging enticingly from the vine!

Labels: banana tree, catalog, chocolate bell pepper, eggplant, garden, heirloom tomato, Seed Savers Exchange, seeds, summer, sunberry, vegetables

Labels: anchovy, bell pepper, eggplant, garden, olive oil, pasta, pasta salad, roasted garlic, vegetables, white wine, zucchini