HOUSE AND GARDEN 
186 
November, 1909 
With the work outdoors done—with the soil turned 
SEEDS. over and fertilized and ready for the long winter 
months—come in and sit down and let us consider 
the garden’s next essential. 
If there can be no garden without soil neither can there be one 
without seeds,—and though the gardener can never hope to know 
in a lifetime as much about these tiny mysteries as a little honest 
attention will teach him about dirt, still there is much to learn; 
much that may be learned and a little that must. Suppose we 
take the last-mentioned first. 
In planting seeds the inexperienced usually err on the side 
of thoroughness, burying them beneath a weight of earth that 
promptly smothers all their aspirations. Hopelessly they give up 
the ghost and go the way of all dead things, instead of the way of 
the living—and the gardener grumbles, when he has only himself 
to blame. 
The earth covering should never be deeper than five times, and 
usually not more than three times, a seed’s greatest diameter 
when planting out of doors. In frames or flats indoors a covering 
equal to the seed’s diameter is sufficient, because in the latter 
situations the moisture and temperature can be artificially regu¬ 
lated. The greater depth out of doors is simply to insure against 
drying out and chilling the seeds where there is no means of govern¬ 
ing these factors. 
Whether you are going to plant indoors or out, water the soil 
where the seeds are to go thoroughly the day before putting them 
in. This will bring it to just the right degree of mellowness at 
the time of sowing. 
Seeds go into the ground in drills, in hills, singly or broad¬ 
cast-—that is in continuous rows, in clusters, one at a time, or 
scattered like grass — according to the plant which they will 
produce. The packet in which each variety comes has printed 
upon it the method to be followed with the seed enclosed, so 
that part of it is easy. 
If it tells you to sow in drills, lay a board down upon the 
proposed bed or wherever the seeds are to go, for a “ruler,” 
draw a line along its edge with a pointed stake for a “pencil,” 
dragging it deep into the soil or lightly along its surface according 
to the depth of drill the diameter of the seed demands; scatter 
the seed into this little trough and brush the earth that was 
pushed out of it, back over them. Then pat it lightly down with 
a float—a “flatiron” contrivance of wood, 6x9 inches or there¬ 
abouts and an inch or two thick, with a small piece nailed upon 
its upper side for a handle. It can be made ot any old pieces of 
wood that happen to be available. 
Seeds sown singly in rows should have the same long drills 
marked for them, the seeds themselves being dropped in at regular 
intervals instead of continuously. Hills are just shallow, saucer¬ 
shaped depressions into which the requisite number of seeds are 
dropped, separated so that they will not touch each other. Then 
the earth is drawn over them; as the seedlings shoot up, gaining 
in height, more earth is drawn up from the sides until the hill is 
formed which supports the little plants and deepens their roots. 
Scattered or broadcast sowing is like the sifting of pepper 
from a shaker, and the earth over the seeds is sifted on in the 
same light fashion if any at all is used to cover them. Usually 
seeds that are scattered are simply firmed into the ground by 
pressing with the float, the idea being always to bring the grains 
of soil close against the seed on every side, keeping it evenly 
moist by capillary action and allowing no irregular spaces for 
air to intervene and shut off this moisture. Air is essential, to 
be sure, but not an excess of it on one side and none on the other. 
T he beginner is apt, however, to give an excess of water rather 
than of air. The proportions should be such that the soil will 
slowly crumble apart in the hand after being squeezed—and this 
proportion should be constantly maintained. Too dry soil or too 
wet, maintained in that condition all the time, is not so bad as the 
alternations between the two extremes which careless gardening 
permits. 
So much for the practical details of seed handling; and now 
for one or two things that ought to be understood — and that are 
interesting to know. 
A seed is the case in which, carefully folded and ingeniously 
packed away, lies an embryonic plant, with the food necessary to 
sustain it for a certain period of its life above ground. In some 
seeds this plant is developed enough for microscopic dis¬ 
section to reveal it plainly, in others it is very rudimentary. 
Usually it has two plump divisions called cotyledons—four 
syllables, cot-y-le-dons, with the accent on the first; there is, 
however, a class of plants which have only one, but they will come 
later—and these, as they push their way up through the earth, 
spread apart and look to us like leaves. Consequently we usually 
speak of them as the first or seed leaves, although they aren’t 
leaves at all. It is between them and protected by them that 
the actual growing point of the plant waits — the plumule or true 
leaf bud whence the real plant is to arise, with the plant’s true 
leaves. 
The cotyledons are only caretakers — the nursemaids of the 
baby plant itself — which feed and guard it until it has grown 
big enough to draw its own sustenance, through its true leaves 
and the little roots that have been keeping pace underground 
with the leaves’ growth, from the elements about. Until a 
true leaf is formed, every plant lives on the food stored away with 
it in the seed, no matter how microscopic that seed may be. 
Not until the true leaves have developed, generally speaking, 
are seedlings strong enough to bear handling and transplanting. 
Some of your seed packets will tell you to transplant when the 
third leaf appears, or to thin out when the true leaves appear; 
which means of course the third leaf after the cotyledons in the 
first instance, the first pair of leaves in the second — for some¬ 
times the true leaves appear in pairs, opposite on their stalk, 
while others come out singly, one on one side, the next on the 
other. Always follow such directions carefully and do not antici¬ 
pate nor wait beyond the stipulated time. 
Once you have watched a seedling—any seedling — through 
its rudimentary growth from funny, round or oval, sturdy little 
cotyledons to two or three true leaves and noted the marked 
difference in the appearance of the latter from the former, you 
will wonder why you never noticed it before—if you have not. 
Seed germination is one of the most interesting things in this 
very interesting world, though it is common — almost as common 
as the dirt. 
