Sprouts
Or seedlings, or whatever the correct term is. The first bright day of february, the urge came upon me, and I dug out the little window-sill greenhouses.
The garden herbs in the newews greenhouselet (greenhut? greenhovel?) are doing well -- but the greenhouse came with some special dirt that's apparently just what the little green beggars need.
The year-round salad is doing markedly worse, in last-year's little potlets, with ordinary dirt and a grain or so of artificial fertilizer. A bit pale, and I guess I should repot the sprouts already, but life is a little hectic, lately (1).
The 'raapsteeltjes' or turnip tops are doing well -- in their larger
ice-cream box.
And now I'm waiting for the weather to pick up, to get consistently to at least 18 degrees centigrade, so I can go and fix the fence, dig some manure into the soil where needed, make little boxes to keep the cats out(2), and perhaps plant some other stuff. Clean the 'lawn', talk ernestly to the vine, compliment the honesuckle and soak up some fresh air.
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