SEASONAL INSANITY

I thought I was safe because I had a plan.  Past experiences had shown me that one needs to muster massive amounts of common sense to survive at this game - but I was pretty sure I could pull it off this time.  I really, 100 percent, absolutely, for sure, thought I could allow myself a little bit of a starter tray of dirt and seeds without any kind of dangerous explosion this year.  It wouldn't be like all those other years so long ago.  I was older and wiser now.  I had learned my lessons about reasonable expectations and house capacity. 

And, besides, all I was doing was giving those giant pumpkin seeds a bit of a head start to amaze the grandkids.  That's what Grandmas do, isn't it?

And Grandpas buy into the idea and offer to build a special shelving unit so that the light from the big window can be utilized to it's fullest for growing green things.  That's what Grandpas do.

I should've recognized the slippery slope we were on right there, but no, the plan was merely going to be a few giant pumpkins.  How does that saying go?  "One drink is one too many, a thousand's not enough"? 

Maybe my insanity has an actual physical starting point.  Maybe it's my Scottish blood.  Maybe I just can't stand to see something going to waste.  When I went to plant those few pumpkin seeds and it only took up one third of one tray of seed pots something inside me shuddered.  How ridiculous to waste seeds and sunshine - I had all kinds of potting soil!

And besides, it just so happened that I wanted to give my begonias a head start.  If I got them growing strong and healthy now they could be ready to bloom at the end of May when it was safe to put them outside.  I could have begonias all summer long.  With that move I was up to one and half trays of expectant dirt  gracing my shelves. 

"Much better!"  I congratulated myself, like I didn't know what was going to happen next.

You see, when I was buying those few pumpkin seeds (for the grandkids) I had also slipped other seed packets into the shopping cart.  There were watermelons and cantaloupe and peppers - things that I don't normally grow so it wasn't so much "greenhousing" as it was a scientific experiment to see if they would grow ... I rationalized to myself.

Mysteriously, on the same shopping trip two or three extra growing trays came home with me.

But just like pancakes and syrup, they just didn't even up.  You know: there's always a little syrup left over so you take another pancake, and then you need a little more syrup, and then another tiny pancake to use that up.  So it went with my dirt and my seeds.

I had made myself a solemn oath not to grow things that I would normally buy at a greenhouse (there are two local establishments whose business plans rely heavily on me and I don't want to let them down) but I realize now that still left the door open for a lot of craziness on my part.  I mean, who in the right mind would buy hollyhocks at a greenhouse?  Or Lavender seedlings?  Or passionflower?  Or chrysanthemums?  Or Milkweed for their butterflies?  Well, maybe other people would, I don't know.  This I do know, though; I never have.

I have every suspicion that I may not be in my right mind.

This planting frenzy of which I speak took place two weeks ago.  Somehow I managed to stop short of filling every empty soup can on the place with dirt so I could plant something else.  Believe it or not, the shelving unit gifted to me still has space - which is a damn good thing because 80% of the seeds are up and some are in need of bigger pots already.  The giant pumpkins are definitely living up to their reputation.  And, what made me think I needed two dozen watermelon, anyway?

Oh how I wish I had the intestinal fortitude to weed some of those babies out.  How can it be that the same person who heartlessly sets a mouse trap can be reduced to fits of guilt for up-rooting so much as one tiny tomato seedling?  It's just another quirk of my particular insanity, I suppose.

As we stood and surveyed the green explosion going on at our picture window this morning I Googled 'hobby greenhouses' and my co-conspirator began to think of what he had on hand to get one started.  I wonder - are we at the bottom of this slippery slope yet?  How will we know when we get there?  And, if it's warm and sheltered, will we want to plant something while we're there?