As March eases in April, I am finally ready to admit that spring is here. It’s not that I don’t welcome spring, it’s that I cannot handle the teasing Pacific Northwest weather: giving us hints of spring as early as February, only to brutally crush my hopes with an atmospheric river or a hail storm. The girls spent this weekend with Grandma and Grandpa, and Matt and I worked on our Atomic Homestead, which to this point, has existed only in my head, on graph paper, spreadsheets, and lists.
Matt made two trips to Sky Nursery to get two square yards of “raised bed mix,” a blend of compost and planting soil. He filled the beds then literally and figuratively wiped his hands clean: “It’s all you, now.” Apparently he’s the muscle of the farm and I’m the gardener. I’m okay with that. So, I added some fertilizer to the beds then planted my wee strawberry plants that arrived a few weeks ago from Territorial Seed. They miraculously survived in bucket with some dry sandy seedling mix, even sprouting a few new green leaves. The directions with the blueberry plants said to let them acclimate to the full sun for a few days, so for now they are adjusting and perched atop the soil.
I have loads of seeds from my (overly ambitious?) ordering spree a few months ago, but I’m reconsidering starting everything from seed. Since this is my very first vegetable garden ever, maybe I get some starts from the garden center for most things and save my seeds for next season. I would like to try starting tomatoes from seed indoors, though. Bottom line, I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve read everything I can, but this seems to one of those endeavors in life where you just have to DO IT to figure it all out. And even then, things will fail.
While Matt was hauling dirt, I was at Seattle Tilth learning all about our first farm animals: Chickens!! It was a fun class and answered all of my questions so far. I can’t wait to go and pick up those fuzzy little chicks and hear their sweet peeping.