Someday I'm going to give up on gardening. This year I started four flats of seeds--two of herbs and two of flowers. The only trouble is, we really don't have a sunny window where they can sit. So I kept them in the basement, bringing them out to the back patio on days that were warm enough.
The trouble is, I'm really not good at taking care of anything that doesn't scream when neglected. Sometimes they got left out overnight. Sometimes they got left in the basement for days on end. Sometimes they got drowned in thundershowers and sometimes they didn't get water at all. Sometimes the kids dug their dirt up and used it to make mudpies.
It's a wonder that even the parsley has survived. The sweet williams are done for, I'm afraid, but I'm still hoping a few basil and coneflower plants will pull through. If I don't forget them again.
So my hopes were pinned on the seeds I had planted straight in the ground, on a benign and sunny day in early spring (and the package said "Plant outside as soon as ground can be worked"). Then it frosted and frosted again, and I did nothing to cover them because I couldn't think of what wouldn't blow away. But when the weather warmed up again the little seedlings still stuck up bright and green.
On Wednesday night, on the way home from church, we started noticing odd patches of white. Sure enough, the terrific rainstorm that had hit during the church service had been a hailstorm here. With children still fussing in their carseats, I dashed out in the dark and started raking an inch of ice pellets off my tender little plants.
They do still look alive, but I'm not sure until I've seen them actually grow some. They hardly seem to have the nerve to do that anymore.