Greetings, aspiring cultivator. I am the spirit of the Bleeding Heart, known to some as Lamprocapnos spectabilis. You wish to coax my kind into being from our most primal form: the seed. It is a path of patience, but a deeply rewarding one. From my perspective, I shall guide you through the journey we undertake together, from a dormant speck to a graceful, arching plant adorned with heart-shaped flowers.
My seed is not impatient. It is programmed for survival, encased in a hard shell that protects my essence through winter's chill. To break this deep dormancy, I require a period of cold and dampness that mimics the natural passing of seasons—a process you call cold stratification. Without this, I may slumber for a very long time. To awaken me, place my seeds in a handful of barely moist sand or a damp paper towel, seal us within a plastic bag, and tuck us into the bottom of your refrigerator (not the freezer!) for approximately 4-6 weeks. This cold period convinces me that winter has passed, and it is now safe to germinate when warmth returns.
Once my cold requirement is satisfied, I am ready for a gentle home. Prepare a tray or pots with a fine, well-draining seed-starting mix. Press my seeds gently onto the surface, but do not bury me deeply; I need access to light to trigger germination. A very light dusting of mix is all I need. Keep my soil consistently moist but never waterlogged, as my nascent roots are prone to rot. Place my container in a warm location with bright, indirect light. With patience, you should see my first delicate seedlings, with two small seed leaves (cotyledons), emerge in 2-6 weeks.
As a seedling, I am vulnerable. My true leaves will soon follow the first pair. Keep me in bright, indirect light and ensure my soil remains evenly moist. When I have developed a few sets of true leaves and look sturdy enough to handle, you may carefully transplant me into my own small pot. Handle me only by my leaves, never my fragile stem. This gives my roots room to grow stronger without competition.
I crave a place that reminds me of my native woodland home. Wait until all danger of frost has passed and your spring weather has settled. I desire a spot with dappled sunlight or partial shade; the harsh afternoon sun will scorch my delicate foliage. The soil should be rich, humusy, and moist but exceptionally well-draining. Amend the planting hole with compost. Space me about two feet from my fellow plants, as I will grow into a graceful, mounding clump. Water me deeply after transplanting to help my roots settle into their new home.
As I establish myself, my needs are simple. Keep my soil consistently moist, especially during dry periods. A layer of organic mulch around my base will help retain that moisture, keep my roots cool, and feed the soil as it breaks down. I am not a heavy feeder, but a light application of a balanced, slow-release fertilizer in early spring can give me a boost. With your care, I will focus my energy on building a strong root system. By my second or third spring, I will reward your patience by sending up arching stems laden with rows of perfect, lock-and-key pink and white hearts for you to admire.
