What was kicking my ass is that I did everything right.
Right potting soil.
Seeds from a reputable vendor.
Combined in trusty seed starter with warming pad.
Watered to the precisely desired amount of dampness.
And… nothing. Nada. Zip. No seedlings.
“There’s always the nursery,” husband says. “We can buy plants.”
“Worst case scenario,” he amends.
He’s right. But I’ve done this before. Why am I a failure now?
I am not a failure.
Rip it all out. The soil was a year old. Maybe that was it. Does soil get old? Who knows?
Buy fresh soil.
Patience. Calm. Do not count the days since planting.
Do. Not. Count. The. Days.
For ten days. Two weeks. Nothing.
I am a failure.
I am stubborn. The soil can sit there and be watered and warmed, carrying its unresponsive load of seed. It can just sit there. If there are no plants by… April… then maybe I will clean up the seed starter. And go to the nursery. But for now, it can just sit there. Is it stubbornness? Is it faith? Is it a refusal to admit failure? Am I kidding myself?
I don’t know. I carry on.