Sowing Seeds, Planning Projects and Tidying Up
Winter is slowly loosening its grip here in the Southeast. The air still carries a crispness in the mornings, but by midday, the sun shines with a warmth that hints at the coming spring. I find this time of year to be full of quiet promise—the last stretch of stillness before the world bursts into bloom. Having just moved into my little cottage, I now have a bit of patio space bathed in sunlight, something I’ve never had before. After years of apartment living, where my gardening efforts were limited to a few potted herbs on a windowsill, the idea of growing food feels almost indulgent. I’ve always dreamt of stepping outside and gathering something I’ve nurtured from seed, and today, I finally took the first step toward making that dream a reality.
This season, I decided to start with three simple food crops: red potatoes, two varieties of lettuce, and strawberries. I wanted to choose plants that felt approachable for a beginner, ones that wouldn’t require too much expertise or complicated care. There is something reassuring about working with plants that are known to be hardy and forgiving. Alongside these, I also started some herbs from seed, and already I’ve had success with the tarragon I planted last week. The first tiny green sprouts pushing up through the soil filled me with a sense of quiet accomplishment. There’s something truly special about seeing life emerge from something so small.
The lettuces were an unexpected addition. I had only planned to pick up a wrench at Ace Hardware, but as I wandered through the gardening section, the sight of vibrant green plants caught my eye. I couldn’t resist. There’s something about fresh lettuce that feels like a luxury, even though it’s such a simple thing. Unlike other crops that take months to mature, these little plants will be ready to harvest in just a few weeks. By the time they’ve finished their cycle, it will be the perfect moment to replace them with my March and April plantings. Having a continuous rotation of fresh produce is something I’ve always wanted, and now, for the first time, it feels within reach.
The strawberries, on the other hand, were far more perplexing. I purchased them as bare-root plants, something I had never worked with before. When I opened the bag, I was completely lost—there were just tangled, lifeless-looking roots, and I had no idea which way was up. Separating them into individual plants felt like a puzzle I wasn’t quite equipped to solve. I did my best, planting them with hope but also with the awareness that I might have done it all wrong. If they don’t make it, I’ll try again next season, a little wiser and a little more prepared. Gardening is like that—it’s a slow conversation with nature, full of trial and error, and I am still very much learning how to listen.
My red potatoes, however, gave me no trouble at all. This was my second attempt at growing them, and this time, I approached it with more knowledge. I had saved a cutting from a grocery store potato, allowing it to sprout indoors in late January. This past weekend, I noticed tiny roots emerging from one of the eyes, a sign that it was ready to go into the soil. Feeling optimistic, I ordered standing potato planters with small velcro windows that will allow me to check on their progress without disturbing them. This is a far better approach than my last attempt, where I mistakenly planted potatoes in a food-safe plastic bucket with no drainage holes. The result was disappointing—small, stunted potatoes, many of them riddled with rot. This time, I’m hopeful for a better outcome.
With my planting done and the sun beginning to dip lower in the sky, I turned my attention to something just as rewarding: sewing. There’s something deeply satisfying about making my own clothing, choosing fabrics and patterns that feel uniquely mine. Today, I set to work cutting out the pattern pieces for a new spring skirt. The fabric is a soft, floral print, light and airy—perfect for the warmer days ahead. I’ve decided on the non-tiered version of the pattern, something simple and classic that I can wear often.
To pair with it, I’ve chosen the Spring Sorrel top by Wool & Pine, a beautiful knit that will complement the skirt perfectly. And because I can’t resist adding a personal touch, I’m spinning the yarn myself. I found a stunning deep purple merino-silk blend from an artist on Etsy, LivingDreamsYarn—the perfect shade for my Deep Autumn color analysis results. It’s rare to find a shade that feels so inherently “me,” and I can already picture how beautifully it will pair with my skirt.
But for now, I must be patient. The fiber won’t arrive until Tuesday, and until then, I can only imagine how it will feel slipping through my fingers as I spin. This level of planning is unusual for me—I am not one to delay gratification when it comes to knitting. Normally, the moment I decide on a project, I dive right in. But this time, I have no choice but to wait. I can’t even start a gauge swatch yet, as I haven’t spun the fiber! My hands are itching to cast on, but there is something sweet about anticipation.
As I wrapped up my day, I took a moment to sit and enjoy the quiet. There’s something deeply fulfilling about a day spent tending to simple things—planting, sewing, planning. There was no rush, no sense of urgency, just the steady rhythm of life unfolding. These small acts, done with care and intention, are what make a house feel like a home. And here, in my little cottage, I feel like I am finally beginning to settle in.
