Peppers in the Ground

Shit's getting real in Pepperland, guys. We are where the seeds hit the dirt.

After about 10 days gestating in their damp baggie of wet towels (which I think is also a Slipknot album), my salsa seeds looked like this.

Rooty-tooty-pepper-shooties.

Lil squirmy roots, like delightful tiny snakes in a bag. You know what that means, other than I might need professional help? That means it's plantin' time.

I c...a...r...e...f...u...l...l...y extracted all of my seeds from the paper towels. They had grown through the paper in many places, and I couldn't risk damaging the tender roots.  Here's what they looked like when I had successfully freed them all.

Out with the sprouts.

Here's what I found most interesting. The roots are the first part to poke out of the seed, with the leafy bits coming out last. Seems bass-ackwards to me, but I'm not an ancho chile, so what do I know?

Anyway, while my seeds were a-sprouting, my planters had arrived. They're adorable, and they fit perfectly on my teeny-weeny balconeeny.

They look like wooden casks, but they're actually
lightweight resin, because no way was I hauling
wood from my car to the balcony.

Yea verily, I did filleth them with loamy fertilizer-enriched soil. As one does.

Which I did haul from my car to the balcony.
Lightweight resin dirt is not a thing.

In each planter I made about a dozen dirt-holes, using a sophisticated gardening tool I call the pokerizer. This is a name I freely stole from a character in Stephen King's The Stand, which I'm currently reading for the umpteenth time. What the hell else would I be reading in the middle of a global pandemic except an 800-page novel about a global pandemic? Real life hasn't gotten to the epic battle between the Walkin Dude and the Army of the Corn Lady yet, but I'm sure we'll catch up soon.

The pokerizer is otherwise know as my salad fork,
but don't tell the garden club. Or the people
who come over and eat my salads.

Into two dozen dirt-holes went two dozen pepper-babies. And then I watered them gently.

And then we proceeded to get four straight days of Texas Spring rain. Those bitches are watered.

And now I wait. Wait for those wonderful green leafy bastards to pop out of the soil as if to say, "Hi, Mama! I'm a Pepper, he's a Pepper, she's a Pepper, we're a Pepper!"

Maybe I do need professional help.

Stay tuned. At the rate we're going, these damn pepper plants may live longer than any of us.