In this age of anxiety, it’s reassuring to spot newly sprouted signs of life in the vegetable trays on the roof terrace
I have never been much of a one for seed trays. I don’t have a greenhouse and only narrow windowsills. Plus, I am married to a minimalist architect who has a near-fear of ‘clutter’. Pretty much, the first early potatoes are the only ‘seed’ stuff I start at home.
I prefer the slightly anxious scan along a row of string on soil as I wait to spot newly sprouted signs of life. Though, then, I am of course a bit loath to thin them out. The idea of Darwinist selection doesn’t sit well. It is probably why I’ll never be a proper gardener, this aversion to throwing the weakest baby away. Though I admire neat rows of properly spaced plants as much as the next person, I have come to the conclusion it just isn’t for me.
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