Transplanting lettuce

For a week, every time I walked past the lettuce, it yelled at me. It was all tangled and crammed together and needed to be transplanted, separated out so each plant could grow. More importantly, my wife and I have been eating store-bought insecticide- and herbicide-laced (not to mention, over-hyphenated) lettuce like rabbits

Yesterday, I finally transplanted some plants. Here are some photos to prove it happened.

Marvel of Four Seasons fighting each other for nutrients, moisture, and light.

 The Red Salad Bowl lettuce was a tangled mess.

To keep as much of the roots intact as possible, I wet the soil, then wiggled the plants lose...

then planted them in an appropriate container that we had saved in the past few months.

At first, the transplants were wilty and wimpy, but after a day under the lights and a generous helping of water, they've bounced back. Looks like we'll need more containers and more friends to help us eat all this lettuce.

Where I geek out about seed germination*

Seeds, those little dry things that rattle around in paper envelopes, seem pretty insignificant. We don't pay them much respect as they show up each spring in packets on the store aisle caps for a few months, then are gone. But seeds and the plants they grow aren't going away, of course. Seeds have grown yearly generations of seasonal plants since they were spoken into being at the beginning of time.

The process of germination starts as seeds take in water and expand. Pressure builds on the outer coating and eventually the seed bursts open and a root pops out. Most plants send up a fuzzy stem and two early leaves. Some plants, including corn, have only one or these rudimentary leaves. This leaf or leaves had been curled around the stored fats, carbohydrates, and proteins inside the protective outer coating. The seed's internal chemistry begins to change also—proteins and starches break into simpler compounds that the seed uses to shift into high gear.

Early leaves look the same plant to plant. It's not until the first true leaves appear that plants differentiate themselves. Here is a pic of a Large Red Cherry's first true leaf. You can tell it's a tomato plant just from that distinctive leaf. (Stay tuned for a future post on the Large Red Cherry.)

Large Red Cherry—every seed I planted germinated and grew true leaves after 19 days

Scientists don't understand everything about seeds. Some seeds remain dormant, refusing to germinate even when conditions are almost perfect and evolution can't explain the origin of seed-bearing plants. Even Darwin wrote that they are an "abominable mystery."

In the end, we know enough about seeds and their growing process to stand in awe and watch them work.

Slow but steady. This photo from two weeks ago shows plants that still have 
plenty of time—another month and before Central Ohio's last frost date. 

*Believe it or not, I'm not a biologist, botanist, or seed whisperer. I am a seed pray-er, however.