On my brother’s last visit to the Netherlands, a little less than a year ago, he brought me as gifts two seed sets: one for a lemon tree bonsai that came with a beautiful dark blue glazed ceramic bonsai tray, the other for a (probably small) sunflower variety, this one with a cute mini terracotta pot, and both coming with their supply of peat.
It was the end of the warm season when I got this gift, so under the pretext that I wouldn’t be planting the seeds at the time anyway, I didn’t even unwrap the plastic; I just carefully and lovingly stashed both containers in my gardening supplies cupboard (the indoor one!), and would occasionally, when putting things in or taking stuff out from said cupboard, take them out, inspecting them for any instructions or information I could glean through the wrapping.
Then for my birthday, in October, I thought I’d unwrap the pots, planning to (force myself to) whimsically plant the seeds. Instructions for the sunflowers indicated February through July as the sowing time, while the bonsai didn’t come with any such instructions. I didn’t plant the bonsai, I thought I’d wait for the new year, make a celebratory occasion out of planting that seed. And then, the new year started, and I still hadn’t planted that seed.
Today, I finally planted the sunflowers and the lemon tree bonsai. Last thing I want to do is to turn this post into a long-winded introspective analysis about the cold grip of the fear of failure or an equally long-winded whining monologue about the slimy hold of procrastination (I think I just did, but at least it wasn’t long), I just want to celebrate having (at least for now) overcome whatever it was that had kept me from planting these seeds, or reviving my garden, or actively pursuing a couple of shelved projects of interest; I want to celebrate being “just doing it”. It feels good!
The last photo shows the planted bonsai and sunflower seeds in their makeshift greenhouses in the corner of my desk – in its tidiest state – where they will sit so I can monitor moisture levels and mold closely until they germinate, keen readers with keen eyes will also notice the Thermos flask still on my desk.