and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to
uproot..."
So it turns out the author of Ecclesiastes had it right. Who'da thunk it?
I was vaguely aware of the planting seasons and zones indicated on the back of all of the seed packets I've purchased since January. But surely that did not apply to my little herb garden project. After all, I started my garden indoors, where seasons and climate have no consequence--right?
Wrong! With the pots of my little kitchen garden either flourishing or withering, I thought I'd make one last attempt to germinate some cilantro and some thyme. You just can't make a good summer salsa without lots of cilantro. And I'd always had success sprouting thyme. (That success simply didn't translate to keeping it alive after the first week.) So I prepared some seed pods and planted...again. Only a funny thing happened. Nothing. Zip. Nada. Zilch. Not one single sprout poked its head through the soil this time.
Apparently it isn't the "season" for cilantro. Neither is it the "time" for thyme. And...I stand in absolute wonder at the miracle of nature to know that. Each tiny seed holds all that mysterious potential within, waiting for exactly the right time and season to begin its journey through life. And no amount of nurture can force nature.
I know what you're thinking. There must be much more gifted horticulturalists who know ways around this germinating conundrum. But I accept my limitations. My garden fields (pots) shall remain fallow for the summer months. Except, of course, for my basil and oregano which continue to thrive despite my brown thumb. I foresee a summer of Italian menus. Let there be pesto!
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