February in the garden looks like nothing is happening, which is exactly when everything starts happening. The bench in the greenhouse is full before the snowdrops finish.
Cold-hardy first, always
Sweet peas, larkspur, orlaya and ammi go in now — the tough annuals that sulk if sown in warm April. They want the cold weeks; it’s what makes their stems long and their roots stubborn.
Everything gets a label and a date, because February-me always believes she will remember, and April-me never does. Twelve trays down, the whole season quietly begun, and outside the frost none the wiser.