It happens this time every year - Waiting For Sprouts. I plant all my cold weather crops as soon as I can pry the cold soil loose (the package says "as soon as the soil can be worked", does it not?) And then we wait. And wait. And I convince myself that I am a failure as a gardener and that nothing is ever going to come up and my family is going to starve, and panic sets in.
Seeds are smart little things. They might be able to survive the cold nights of early March, but they see no reason why they ought to. They wait until the soil is warm enough for their taste - St. Patrick's Day, most of the time - and start tentatively poking their heads out to test the air. I should remember that seeds are smarter than I am, and that it's the seeds and the plants - not me - that are really in charge of my garden.
Well, anyway, we finally have a couple of sprouts. The turnips rows are up, and some kale here and there are sprouting. So if all else fails, we'll at least have turnips and kale to eat. We can survive on turnips and kale... right?