Sprouting

We planted our first new plants in our new old greenhouse and have been checking on them daily ever since.

Nobody told me that growing plants was a whole load of waiting around! My eagerness began to fade (slightly), my excitement withered (slightly), and I had started looking elsewhere for the next project to try, once work quietened down some.

Perhaps growing plants in a greenhouse isn’t for me? Perhaps we purchased the wrong compost? So many questions, so few answers.

So little patience.

Look! Green bits!

Admittedly this is only in the Catnip, the tomato is still not showing, but it’s such a relief to see that something is working. I’m sure the tomato will come in time.

Knowing that something will grow, even if just a little, is a relief. I find this feeling of the unknown, the thought that spent effort cannot be reclaimed, fills my every day life: You spend so much time working towards being able to start something and you have no idea if it will even begin to appear to be successful, let alone balloon into some major enterprise or solve the original problem you had. Even once the work is done, often the results of your efforts aren’t immediately apparent. Did that code compile? If it did… did it do what I wanted?

Growing a few seeds of catnip isn’t anything huge, but relative to the flora I have grown before (ie. nothing. What’s the opposite of green fingers?) I’m infinitely ahead of where I was a day or two ago. Where once I was swimming in the unknown with nary a hint as to whether or not I had wasted all that time, now I have taken a step in the right direction.

Here’s a bonus picture of the catnip, taken with a macro lens on a phone: