The Garden Dirt: Growing Home

It started, as so many good things start, with a bean, a cup of wet dirt, and a warm windowsill.

I always wanted to grow food, and I didn't even know it. When I was a kid, I did know that I loved sprouting pinto beans from our kitchen pantry, and growing them into leggy vines in my bedroom. Not only did I marvel at the magic act of germination, I got the strangest feeling from having a green living thing in my window. It felt like I was home in a way I had never experienced before. I used to open my window on sunny days, and lean on the window sill, with the leaves of my bean plant in my peripheral vision, listening to the radio; pretending that I was a grown lady, with her own apartment and a plant on her windowsill, naturally.

Here I am now, with many windowsills, a whole house, a big family, and a massive yard; and I still do the same thing: find a unique sense of home by tending little sprouts. Even before attempting this whole homeo-schooling thing, getting the kids involved in gardening early was a must. How else to get stuff done than to keep the little hands busy?

All you have to do is just break everything down into tiny one or two step tasks, commit to a set up and clean up time, and figure out where to store everything in the meantime. And when you do that, please make a blog about it so I can read it and figure out how to do it myself.

 Chicken observer: optional

Just jesting. I'm actually starting to get the hang of this growing little growers thing. It starts, as many good things start, with a box of dirt. I use one of our large recycling bins, but anything waterproof with a tight-fitting lid would work. The box of dirt is handy for a couple of reasons. It makes a nice spot to fill containers without worrying about a mess. Later, when you need to transplant seedlings, or if something dies and you need to empty the container, you'll be glad to have a place to work, or dump your dirt. Unless they're looking infected with something, all the roots, stems, and leaves of fail plants can also go in there.

Now that you've got the dirt, decide in what you will plant your seeds. Please, believe me when I say, you can start a seed in anything. Paper towels, boots, ice cream containers, yogurt cups, egg shells, your ear, you name it. Different plants have different needs, but, keep in mind, planting in a small container usually means you'll need to transplant to a bigger container soon.

 Yes, a walnut shell.

What to plant? That's up to you. At this time of year, most gardeners are planting onions, leeks, broccoli, hard greens, radishes and carrots, to name just a few. Read the seed packet for how deep to plant whichever seeds you choose. Cover with a little dirt, and water gently until the soil feels lightly, but evenly, moist. As they say, "like a wrung-out sponge." After that, it needs a few days somewhere warm and draft-free. We have a cabinet above our oven that is just the spot. When you see sprouts, set them in a sunny window, and water as needed. What next? Well, sheesh! It's only January!

Here, George uses a salt shaker from our table top, rinsed out well and filled with water, to rain on his carrot seeds.

The last thing you'll need is patience, and a keen ability to harvest the process, if there is no fruit. Playing in the dirt is good for kids, and somewhat difficult for some who like to keep their hands clean.

Seeds require dexterity, and operating an eye dropper or shakerful of water demands an advanced understanding of hydromechanics. Most of all, kids love to work on something that they can tell is important. Letting them try their hand at horticulture lets them see what they're capable of, which cultivates real confidence, regardless of the result.

A few Septembers ago, when I had a new baby on my lap and was staring wistfully out the window at a winter garden that wasn't getting planted, a young Thomas came to me, in need of something to do. I figured I would plug two problems into each other, in hopes of a synergistic solution. I gave him a packet of radish seeds, pointing through the window to the bed, saying, "Sprinkle these all around that dirt and poke each one down with a stick." He dutifully ran out in his little raincoat, grabbed a stick, plunked all of the radish seeds in one dense wet clump, stabbed it repeatedly, and looked up at me through the window, beaming proudly.We didn't grow more than two radishes that winter, but I think I planted a gardener.