I have a theory about what caused me to talk about gardening in my sleep on Thursday night. Just before bed, I was corresponding with The Mint Killer about a favor her four-year-old daughter wanted to ask me.
Wait. Make that four-and-a-half-year-old daughter. The critical half-birthday mark was, apparently, hit this past weekend.
Regardless, said daughter was in search of a plant-sitter for a pot full of sunflower seedlings while the two of them hied off to the Washington D.C. area to visit friends.
During the discussion about what the plants needed (daily watering), the topic of repotting came up. Apparently, these were seedlings desperately in need of a new home, their current pot being much too small.
I suspect right about now, it’s possible to see wherein there could be disaster. Inexperienced gardener takes on the nurtured and loved seedlings of a four-and-a-half-year-old. Inexperienced gardener then volunteers to transplant said seedlings.
Not only were these nurtured and loved seedlings, but they were in honor of a Jewish holiday. The Mint Killer reported to me that these were grown from seeds the daughter got at her first day of Hebrew school.
“The lesson plan was all about Tu B’Shevat, a holiday that has many spellings, but is basically Israel’s version of Arbor Day and a way to get everyone excited about planting trees in the middle of a desert,” The Mint Killer reported. “The seed packets were out of date, but clearly her Southern exposure window coaxed those suckers out of their misery….”
The entourage arrived at our house Friday while I was at work, and they dropped off the seedlings into Steve’s care. Over the course of the day, I’d considered bagging on my offer to repot them, since I was concerned about inadvertently killing them all.
But on the whiteboard in the kitchen was a one-word order, apparently delivered to Steve by said four-and-a-half-year-old as she turned over the seedlings. “REPOT.”
There was to be no weaseling out.