We goofed. Or forgot. Or got lazy. Or some combination of the above.
I stumble outside and pick up the little seedlings. Their leaves are upright, clasped together as if in prayer: please help us even as they wont. I bring them in. We place them on the window sill. Sorry guys.
Breakfast isn’t going to be among the daffodils. Unless you count the ones on the table. Inside. They'd fallen over with the heaving temps outside.
Monday. I bring home sushi, we listen to news, I work some more. Windows closed, heater on. Brrr.
oh no! That's just too harsh! ox
ReplyDeleteA classic Nina post. Very funny!
ReplyDeleteI read it aloud and Meade said: "I've got some news for you, Nina. You need to start some new seedlings. Those seedlings are permanently damaged. Anything under 50 is enough to permanently damage them" ... unless you have the genetically modified kind"... the kind with added fish genes.
I think I could hear my one lone fully-bloomed daffodil in the front garden crying to me last night "Why did I grow up so early? It's freezing out here!!! Somebody?"
ReplyDeleteWhilst trying to fall asleep last night I kept thinking of ways to go outside and warm up that little daffodil, but lo and behold, she is OK this morning, even after a very chilly and windy night.
Thanks, all!
ReplyDeleteAnn -- Ed and I googled and searched and read and found nothing to suggest that the plants might be compromised -- except those that have obviously given up the good fight! The seedlings, once inside, relaxed their leafy arms and seemed to almost smile. So we're going to continue, in the hope that, like crowcottage's flowers, they will be fine, especially come tomato harvest time. (We're somewhat encouraged because the same thing happened last year! We shall never be great farmers!)