Feeling a little behind on spring seeds this year—blame the destruction and general mayhem of the greenhouse—but only by a few weeks, and that feels forgivable. The good news drifting through the house this morning is that the greenhouse is being lovingly resurrected today, complete with new supports. Bruce has it laid out in the barn, every piece accounted for, which feels nothing short of miraculous. With luck and a bit of muscle, we’ll be tucking lettuce and spinach into their new home by tomorrow.
Big Tree Nursery is officially on standby for compost, and raised beds have been added to Bruce’s ever-growing to-do list. Controlling our own soil feels like the ultimate dream. Shopping for dirt, however, still feels like a personal affront. In the meantime, every scrap of kitchen refuse—peels, trimmings, odds and ends—has been carefully saved to feed our compost pile. Someday soon, I hope, we’ll be living off our own black gold. I was flipping through old Martha Stewart Living magazines from March and landed on her composting article. Her compost looked like velvet. I felt a very specific kind of envy.
This year’s seeds came from Johnny Select Seeds, Baker Creek Heirloom Seed Company and Monticello Shop. As a graphic designer, Baker Creek’s catalogs are my downfall—request one and suddenly you need everything. I chose the rainbow garden collection and now I’m dreaming of planting each four-foot square in a different color, a little living spectrum stitched into the soil.
We’re also trying cleomes this year—two packets, one from Baker Creek and one from Monticello. My mom has wanted them for years, and they’re never available locally. I promised her cleomes for Mother’s Day, so here’s hoping the seeds cooperate.
Yesterday, I escaped into town and wandered into The Gift Exchange on 8th Street. What a surprise—a small shop filled with charming little treasures, perfect for tucking into garden corners and along paths. They’re celebrating their two-year anniversary with an open house next week. Two years, and it was my first visit. Shame on me—but better late than never. 🌱