![]() Freedom is the Oxygen of the Soul. -Moshe Dayan- Planting seeds indoors got underway in late March this year at Kyeema North. While shopping in the local Home Hardware for my seeding soil, I came across these kits that included tiny coir pots, a holder and a transparent lid (a nod to greenhouse glass) that seemed clever. In past winters, I have used whatever small pots I have stashed under my potting bench but this seemed far easier and so I bit. It was all going swimmingly and by early May my Zinnias and Beets and assorted other plants were ready to harden off and get into the ground. One of the handy features of these coir seedling pots was the claim that you could just plant the whole organic thing right into the ground without removing the pot. I was hesitant, the experienced gardener in me, suspicious of such ideas, so I met the instructions halfway and cut off the bottom of each potted seedling before tucking it into the soil, giving the roots a quicker exit route. Shortly thereafter, I was out of town for a week, leaving Mick in charge of the watering and plant-sitting. When I got home, eager to check the growth of the plants in my beds, I was disappointed to see not much had happened. In fact the seedlings looked positively scrawny. Hmmmff, thought I, he couldn’t have watered them enough! Not knowing for sure and not wanting to accuse him of neglecting my “babies”, I immediately got on top of their need for moisture and let another week go by. Every morning, as most obsessed gardeners do, I did my inspection rounds, much like an expectant mother standing sideways in the mirror to monitor my growing bump. These daily rounds were fraught with disappointment. My seedlings were not performing at all. Had I planted too early? Did my soil need amending? Too much water? Too little water? Had my green thumb turned brown? Three weeks passed and now my garden was behind. I started looking at photos comparing previous season’s growth patterns. Was it the weather? I knew the answer to that question. No. Maybe some sort of grub had been chewing on the roots. I decided to uproot a seedling to get a better look at what was happening beneath the surface and that’s when I discovered what the problem had been all along. The coir pots! The seedling’s root system was not penetrating the coir walls. It was too thick and too hard and despite all the watering, was not softening. These damn pots were choking my tiny green babies to death. I was livid. Why had I tried this new method? Why had I not stuck with years of tried and true techniques? My babies could not spread their wings. What little growth had taken place was straight down into the soil, like a root on a mission to the opposite side of the world. (If I keep digging mom, where will I end up? China, of course.) The problem with roots headed straight to China from Canada, with blinders on, is there are no stops along the way to check out things in other places, like say, Polar Bears in Hudson Bay or hiking up Machu Picchu, or watching the sunrise at The Haleakala Crater. Nope. Those roots weren’t developing - they were bolting through life without any detours. The healthiest plants and shrubs and trees spread their roots far and wide, feeling and touching and seeing the world beyond their upright appearance, like a worldy, well-travelled soul. My seedlings had no chance of becoming fully formed, flourishing adults. Their life experience was stunted, one-dimensional and closed off to adventure and learning. I had to free them! Trowel in hand, I started to release my beloved Zinnias, digging them up, unearthing their tiny fragile and tender root systems - stripping away the coir prisons that were holding them back. I undressed the Sunflowers, the Castor Beans, the Nasturtiums…all the garden beds were uprooted and replanted naked and unencumbered by the restrictive walls that were holding them back from the life they deserved. After the carnage, I looked at the scattered and torn coir sheaths laying askew about the edges of my beds- dried remnants of a botanical authoritarian regime, and, panting, wiped the sweat from my brow. For over an hour, I had waged a war against an enemy I had not been able to see until I dug deeper. Since the replanting, my garden is thriving. I won’t be fooled again.
2 Comments
8/1/2022 01:27:52 pm
I had to google "coir"... had no clue they were called that... and made of coconut. I always called them peat pots? I tried seedlings this spring. Turns out I don't have the patience to plant the scraggly little things, so I tossed them over the bank–"coir" and all.Some are now popping up just to prove a point. Coir noir. xo
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Deb
8/1/2022 04:42:46 pm
Peat pots are a thing too. In fact, likely a better choice as they break down easier. Coir noir indeed! 😉
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DEBunked.I see nature as a metaphor for life. Please join me on this journey down the garden path as I explore life through story - a shovel in one hand and a camera in the other. Archives
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