Beer Garden Blues
A.V. Walters
We started our little garden plants in tiny peat pots, some weeks ago. We’d carefully researched our frost-free date, and back-calculated the time for germination. I’m picky about such things because one of my pet peeves is vegetable starts that are root-bound at planting time. The date came, and went, and the weather forecast still warns of possible frost, so we cannot plant. But, our little sprouts are ready to roll. To harden them off, we’ve been carrying them outside on nice days and back in again every night. It’s like babysitting.
Though I’ve never been an advocate of multiple transplanting (too lazy), this year I’m won over, if only to avoid the dreaded tangle of strangled roots in the bottom of the peat pots. Yes, I know that peat pots can supposedly be just dropped into the hole, but I’ve never done that, because even though the roots can grow through them, I’ve still experienced them causing a strangling ganglia of roots. And yes, I know there’s a whole school of thought that advocates multiple transplants for tomatoes—almost as gardening gospel. I don’t buy it. Like I said, I’m picky.
We’re going away for a short trip. Added to my root-bound anxieties is the knowledge that the tiny peat pots would dry out before our return. They desperately need larger pots that can hold enough moisture to cover our four-day absence. Transplanting is not an option; it’s a necessity. Since I wasn’t planning on it, I don’t have pots, one or two sizes up, in which to put these little sprigs. I had planned on going from peat pots, direct to the buckets dug into the garden. We’re not talking about a handful of vegie starts here; there are a lot of them.
After exhausting all of our yogurt and salsa containers, each washed and punctured with drainage holes, I started scrounging through the recycling bin for additional pots. I scavenged some milk cartons, a cocoa tin, and the plastic trays in which my co-op sells mushrooms. Still, we were short. What was I going to do with all those tomato starts?
I ran out to our local hardware store. They understood. Though they didn’t have a solution. (Their vegetable starts are in the same frost-free-limbo.) We all thought that the cold weather was done. Optimists, I tell ya! They suggested a trip across the county to a nursery/hothouse operation. Alternatively, they shrugged, there’s always 18-ounce, plastic beer cups. Sigh.
I’m not a disposable-cup-kind-of-gal. But, in the quest for environmentally sound solutions, one must weigh the impact of the nearby expedient, versus the drive-around-the-whole-damn-county looking for appropriately sized pots solution. The local grocery had a small stack of beer cups for $3.19. So, I went for it.
The plants will not spend long in their beer cups. I’ll save them for plantings in the future (along with all the punctured yogurt and salsa containers.) Next week, I’m sure they’ll all be ready for the final jump into the garden. I’m watching the weather site like a hawk. Next year, I’m gearing up for floating row covers. It’s either that, or it’s back to the beer cups.
That is a whole lot of work! Lucky for me, I’d never have your depth of knowledge on the subject, so probably would have–fat and happy–planted them all root bound and stressed. And crossed my fingers.
LikeLike
Sometimes, tiptoeing around one’s own pet peeves takes extra work…it’s just what we do. Maybe it’s just garden variety neurosis.
LikeLike
For your sake I hope you’ve never heard the song Red Solo Cup. If you have, then I want you to know that this post has caused that wretched song to stick in my head. Knowing you did not act with malice, I forgive you. 🙂
But seriously we share your dislike of such “throwaway” things. Still sometimes you have to improvise with whatevever is available. My guess is that those cups will find other uses someday. I use the yogurt containers to keep asparagus fresh (by setting the spears upright in them in the fridge, with a little water in the bottom). The cups would work for that too. When you’re done with them this year, stack them up somewhere out of the way and there will be a time when you can use them for something.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Never heard the song–so I can assure you there’s no malice.
As for the throwaways, I can’t use them for much except little plants, now that I’ve put holes in the bottom. But I’m sure they’ll be used again in this season–and for seasons to come.
LikeLike