It happens every year. I hold out for as long as I can but the temptation is considerable. Thoughts of former failures urge me to cogitate the consequences. I am aware of the repercussions, however, argue successfully with myself once more that this year will be different. This argument is not based on logic or reason or even fact but simply on hope. Blind hope.
The compost is sieved, the seed trays are cleaned, the identification tags have last years information erased and the packets of seeds are sifted through, separating vegetables from flowers. It would be lunacy to plant vegetable seeds this early!
After a few days the sweet peas are shooting. New strands this year. One variety are white and the other a deep purple, almost black. The dahlias and marigolds are not far behind. So too are the sunflowers and cornflowers and just today the petunias have also stirred. I’m delighted, jubilant and thrilled that I have managed to nurture these seeds to life and feeling rather pleased with myself for “getting ahead of the game”.
Then it dawns on me. It is February…winter! Light levels are low and serve only to encourage my new seedlings to grow tall and spindly. I will have to start again in April. Doh!