Lettuce under Lockdown - Starting seeds indoors

Lockdown may be new to us, but for plants in my garden it is an inevitable part of every spring. Whilst heatwave weather has tested our national resolve to remain isolated indoors, my own longing to get out in the sun is nothing relative to the yearning of my poor seedlings. Stretching themselves towards the windows, their little leaves press against the glass.

I’d love a greenhouse but our very long garden is, fundamentally, the width of most greenhouses and sunlight is a precious commodity, so for now we start our seeds indoors. I quickly ran out of space on any windowsill so I have expanded to using a south facing set of folding doors and a series of old metal wine racks (like filing cabinet frames) which my husband has lovingly put together for the purpose. From March till May our folding doors are redundant, access to the garden is perilous and the view out of the kitchen is obscured by ‘The Propagation Station’: the horticultural equivalent to high rise living as tray after tray of seedlings jostle precariously for their moment on the top shelf.

Access to the garden barred by seedlings

Indoor growing is not without its limitations and this spring has seen us coaxing plants through light deprivation, dehydration, sun stroke and a lot of feline interference. In our house, we only have North or South facing windows and have to choose between full shade or scorching sun. On a March morning, I will come down to find the butter reduced to a puddle on the kitchen table, and trying to shield delicate young plants from this searing glare is a constant battle. Hopefully by the time man comes to grow plants on Mars I will have gathered some handy tips on dealing with what must surely be pretty similar growing conditions.

Whilst April’s heatwave has been lovely, it is actually a bit of a nightmare for young plants whose sensitive needs are better met by milder weather and a bit of consistency. Last week I foolishly left a tray of recently transplanted lettuce by the window and within a few hours they had been fried, setting us back by weeks. I’m trying to use the multi-tiered, tower block system to shelter delicate plants lower down but full sun through glass is hard to escape. My next step will be to attach some kind of shade netting to the kitchen windows: another fun move in the longstanding game of ‘how far can I push my husband’s patience?’.

Above all, each April brings a severe real estate crisis. Lots of people write glowingly about the early stages of starting seeds on your windowsill, but in reality, many of those plants will continue to need protection into May, and when each one takes up its own pot, you suddenly find yourself short on space with plants piled against every window. I try to plan ahead for this by keeping a rolling count of what I have that is hardy and what isn’t. There are some things which I start inside to give them a boost, like lettuces or multi-sown beetroot in plugs, but when push comes to shove they will cope just fine outdoors. Others like cosmos, nicotiana, tomatoes and squash will be sitting at my kitchen table for some time, so planning for these and spacing the sowing is important, even if it means leaving some things a little late. I also save space by using absolutely tiny pots to start seeds in. In a relatively small garden you never need that many plants, so for very small seeds that will need pricking out, things like lettuce and nicotiana, I use the smallest pots I can find rather than big seed trays.

One of the great benefits of starting seeds indoors is that you can water them without needing to locate footwear. In my case this is often the difference between getting watered and not, so it is no bad thing. The only problem is that it can be extremely messy, and timing watering can be tricky when central heating means pots dry out much faster than they would elsewhere. I try to soak my seed trays and pots from below but inevitably end up dripping muddy water everywhere. In the end, plenty of cardboard on the floor is pretty much essential.

We’ve had a few losses this year and I try to keep an open mind about sowing in batches and rolling with the punches. My leeks were incinerated when I wasn’t paying attention and a few other things further down the tower are more leg than leaf, but in general we’ve muddled through. Whilst frustrating, starting plants indoors without a greenhouse has some benefits, the greatest being the pleasure of a daily progress check over breakfast. I try to get little Arthur (aged 2) interested in the process unfolding, but in truth I am the one reduced to childish excitement when trays of seedlings peek through the soil at breakfast and have emerged and stretched their leaves by dinner time.

In a few short weeks even the tenderest of these companions will have flow the nest, perhaps free from lockdown before I am. Whilst my view of, and access to the garden will finally be unencumbered, I will miss them as I drink my morning cup of tea.