The first tiny neon peaks of lavender seedlings have pushed through under their plastic casing. The seed leaves are like tiny hands pressed together, or opening beaks searching upwards. Lid off now, they’ll stay warm but less wet, a balance of conditions to avoid damping off.
I had worried the seed would be too old. Gathered in September and left roughly bucketed in a cool dark shed, I had waited months to take action and cycle the lot home. Housed in a different bucket, then, and left a little longer, it wasn’t until the pre-Christmas craft drive that I noticed the seeds, amassing in shaken drifts beneath the seed heads. I couldn’t resist saving them, those tiny glossy ellipses, so dark as to be black. It didn’t take long for the heads to become secondary, a fragrant bonus to the searching for seeds.
I think fondly of those hours passing warmly before the rush of Christmas, each shake slowly filling the vial with the promise of home-grown, scented summer days. And now here it is, a thanks for that time and calm patience, all green and new and shining.
a year in the garden 