Brave Little Soldier
Well, lookie-here, would ya? My very first seedling. I’m so proud.
He’s a hardy little thing, my seedling. Which is a good thing. Because I’ve discovered that raising seedlings is not at all like raising babies. They don’t cry when you neglect to bring them in at night (Oops! So sorry, little guy!) or howl when the psychotic Wisconsin spring wind blows them right off the patio table and scatters them into a big ‘ole clump of damp peat cups and potting soil and oh-so-fragile looking roots (Super-duper sorry, little guy!). Nope, for the most part my little seedlings are just busy trying to survive their infancy so they can one day make it on their own in the big bed. You can make it, little guy! You can make it!
It’s rainy and 40 in Wisconsin today. I’ve decided my seedlings need to stay inside and play quietly by the window. Hopefully I’ll remember that I put them on the floor so I don’t step on them. Of course, if I did, I know they’d just suffer in silence; I’d be the one howling and crying.
Do something nurturing today!
PS Awesome close-up of my baby taken by Ms. Emily!