My first attempts at gardening were made with seedlings. Seedlings are for insecure gardeners--those who are not sure this is going to work, but starting with plants that are alive and green would seem to give even the blackest thumb a chance for success. Of course, it doesn't really work out that way. Many, many plants have to die before you begin listening to their wilting leaves and give them the food, water, and light they insist upon having. No matter how much you wanted those zinnias to bloom in the shade of the crepe myrtles, their stubbornness will trump yours every time.
After a few successes with seedlings, seed catalogs take on a new level of fascination. Each one that comes through the mail slot is greeted with a small leap of excitement and a quick flip through the pages. Then it's left on the counter in anticipation of examining every page during your midmorning coffee break. The seed descriptions are irresistible, and it isn't long before small boxes with packages and more packages of seeds begin arriving at your door. Never will you plant all of the seeds, but you do not know that when you first become intoxicated with seed catalogs and their writers.
I think the next stage, which I have not yet entered, is the collecting of seeds from mature plants. I think there is an art to knowing when the seed is actually ready--pick it too soon and it will tend to get moldy, too late and it will be dried out. And it also helps to know what the seed actually looks like.
At this point, I am fascinated with seeds and seed catalogs. I am not interested in the seedlings at big box stores, I'm interested in grow lights. And that is the real story here.
One of the important bits of information I got from the Southern SAWG conference was a money-saving tip about setting up a grow light. Instead of buying the expensive florescent bulbs made especially for growing plants, a two-bulb florescent shop light fitted with one cool bulb and one warm bulb will provide enough of the light spectrum for growing plants at about half the price of the specialized bulb. It was with this bit of information that Harvey and I set out for Lowe's to get the equipment needed for our own grow light. (Why does this sentence set off an emotion in me that borders on the anxiety of making the first step into a South American jungle?)
I don't know if you have tried to buy a florescent bulb lately (in the last twenty years), but it is not so simple as finding the bulb aisle and picking up a couple of bulbs. There are choices for every kind of light imaginable--and unimaginable in the case of Harvey and me. There were cool white, sunshine, aquarium, bright white, plant and aquarium, soft white, daylight white...and by this time my stomach was in a knot. What's cool and what's hot? Simple question, difficult answer. Eventually, we settled on two bulbs that had cool and warm in their light descriptions and hoped for the best.
Getting the grow light set up presented another set of problems. We don't have a green house (well, actually we do--green siding all around), and space is limited since we have filled our house over the years with books and musical instruments. The grow light would need to be set up on the porch. But where and how? Our porch has been the place where numerous projects have been undertaken, not the least of which is broodering small chicks. Now it was time to think about it as a plant nursery.
Our porch is the place where I drink my first cup of coffee. Usually I am there before the sun is up. I sip my coffee and read under the soft light of a small lamp. This ritual could not be disturbed by the harsh light of florescent bulbs, no matter how much I wanted to watch the miracle of germination. Enter Zsa Zsa Gabor and the Green Acres crew.
But, Dah-ling, ve can not hang ze light--eet vill disturb me. Can't ve just prop eet up? Here--use these!
And that is how our shop light came to be supported by the only thing I could find that would fit into the space between the two bulbs--a pair of crystal candlesticks. The light fits on the floor between an old cypress table that holds my reading lamp and the chair that I sit in each morning. The light does not disturb the early morning dark, and so far, we are having success. The plants are beginning to grow. But what will I do when the light needs to be raised?
Vell, dah-ling, ve will put some preety books under ze candlesticks!
