Yesterday morning we began to seed the first plants of the season in the greenhouse – onions. When I walked outside with my seed tub in hand and headed toward the greenhouse, I heard a redwinged blackbird call. It startled me almost, to hear such a loud, raw sound that has been absent so many months. Somehow it seemed very magical; both bird and human beginning work, trusting that spring will come.
We enjoyed doing the work yesterday. It was unseasonably warm, and with the sun streaming into the greenhouse, we were working in t-shirts. The whole greenhouse smells like moist, dank potting soil. Lovely.
After we finished putting the kids down to bed, I walked back in the dark to the greenhouse. I turned off the hoses and opened them up in case the heater failed and it got too cold in there. I opened up our germination chambers to make sure the bucket heaters were producing the warm steam that will awaken the onion seeds and cause them to germinate. Thermometers in hand, I placed them strategically in the germination chambers and in the greenhouse so that we can monitor what temperatures things are getting to. As I closed the door, I inhaled and exhaled. And inhale to steady myself for the work ahead; an exhale of excitement.
I felt a bit like a night nurse in the newborn unit might; making my rounds to check on all the babies.
And so the season has begun. Humble in its beginning, massive in its potential energy.