Yes, you are free to tell me I need to get out more, but I take great pleasure in watching that little green arched back pushing its way through the soil for the first time to become part of the world where it can then photosynthesise to its little heart’s content.
Naturally enough I did a little research to find possible causes of my lack of germination success. For your convenience, I will summarise the various sites I consulted into one:
a) Your soil is too moist.
b) Your soil is too dry.
c) Your soil is too cold.
d) Your soil is too warm.
e) You are stupid.
One of the sites I explored even said that if the seeds don’t germinate in the first month to put them in the fridge for four weeks. Sorry I draw the line at having compost and the like next to food items.
Someone even suggested talking to them. I’ll admit to talking to actual plants but I fear that talking to ungerminated seeds might put me into the cranky category – “You’re already there,” I can hear some people saying – though it wouldn’t hurt just to whisper, “Wake up. It’s spring!” More likely is a vehement, “Sprout, you b*******!”
One site suggested that the pH levels might be the problem but whatever they are, one shudders to think.
My reading taught me that imbibition (the seed taking in water) is the first stage of germination. The water activates enzymes which cause radicles (embryonic roots) to emerge through the seed coating. I think they are then called free radicles?
After this stage the mother is rushed to the maternity hospital and the father tries to remember the things he was taught at pre-natal classes. I think.
I might have got a little mixed up with that last bit but whatever happens it’s making me a little nervous about this summer’s major growing project which is to grow watermelons from seed. The sweet peas and the sunflowers will have to take a rest this year as I devote the time, space and cost to sweet, juicy melons.
Any day now I will plant the seeds into little compostable pots and wait. And wait. And possibly wait. If some successfully get through the imbibition and radicle stages and I see plants emerging I will transfer each to the 25-litre containers my research says they will require. At that stage, I can also start talking to them.
I will battle on even though I am already having doubts about the financial viability of this whole operation. When I add man hours and plant food to the already incurred costs of containers, compost and seeds, I’m estimating the final cost of a single watermelon will be in the vicinity of $79.50.
But the satisfaction will be worth every cent.
Won’t it?