Reading seed packets by the wood stove
February is the quiet month. The plot is asleep, the soil’s too cold to work, and the gardening happens at the kitchen table instead — a box of seed packets, a mug of the last dried chamomile, and the wood stove ticking away.
Sorting what I’ve got
First job is going through the tin of saved and leftover seed. Most things keep for a few years if they’re dry and cool, but viability drops over time, so anything old gets a quick test: a few seeds on a damp piece of kitchen paper in a warm spot, to see what sprouts.
Saving my own seed each year means that list gets shorter. Beans, peas, calendula and coriander all set seed readily, and the plants slowly adapt to this exact patch of ground.
Drawing the year
Then I sketch the beds: what follows what, so no family of plants sits in the same soil two years running, and where the climbing frames and the garlic and the salad gaps will go. It’s optimistic, and it never survives contact with a real growing season — but it gives the year a shape to start from.