This is my first year planting from saved seed.  Last fall, I saved seed from three heirloom tomato varieties, and last week I needed to get them going.  I’m behind.  I should have been doing this in March so I could have six-inch-tall seedlings ready to be transplanted into the garden around now.

Oh well.  Life is too hectic and, as if in correlation, my apartment is too small.  It’s not small as far as New York apartments go, but it’s definitely too small as far as starting seeds indoors goes.  This is our only South-facing window, the only place I could start seeds without reliance on artificial lighting and, really, about the only open spot in the apartment to begin with.  It’s also a favorite sunning spot for the cats.  That pot to the left once contained a mum so vibrant that it could be killed only by Bruce’s laconic insistence on curling into a doughnut on top of it over, and over, and over again.

So what’s a guy to do?

Hang the boys from the ceiling.

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