What we get is all we get

Beloved is cutting the flowering stalks from the rhubarb. I'm in the greens bed.

Seedlings. In February the shaker of mixed seeds was shaken across the flats and what came up, came up. Lots of lettuce, but as usual the eager beavers were the radishes and kale. There might be some spinach or joi choi, can't tell yet. Everything that looked better than halfway decent was pricked out in March, after the second pair of leaves appeared, and moved to its own three inch pot.

The pots were set into water-retaining flats and bottom watered thereafter, to prevent damping off. The flats were loaded onto the shelves in the big south facing "greenhouse" window and turned daily.

In April, the First being a moderately dry day after many storms,  the flats were set out along with the kneeler and the ho-mi (a right angled trowel). I'm, in spite of my best intentions, a bit of a grid planter and tend to space greens a ho-mi apart in each direction, about a foot. I'm making some effort to put kale and collards in the inner "rows" and radishes in the outer ones, because the kale will spread. Other than that, whatever comes to hand is popped into the ground in the order it came in the flat.

A little bit of mulch pulled up to a transplant will help with sunburn, especially at the root collar. 

The pots are all tucked into one another, as are the flats, and carried back to the potting shed for re-use, either right away (there are more greens not yet pricked out) or later in the spring, or for fall planting, or for next year. 

I'll run over the bed with some water, to reduce shock to the transplants, even though it is not sunny out.

There are flats of peas and flats of Egyptian onions and garlic (I don't mind spring planting garlic). But these are young yet. On to other things for now. 

If you plant, you may get to eat some things. Or not. If not, there is nothing to point to and say, I did not get to eat this. That which exists is what exists and that which does not is an abstraction. 

If I knew where the netting was, I might net this bed. Precautions are not a bad thing. I won't be poisoning, though. There has been enough of that, and a dead zone is burgeoning off our coast.

What we get is all we get.