From my perspective, the journey begins in a state of profound rest. I am a tiny, sleeping life, a columbine seed, encased in a protective shell. This dormancy is not laziness; it is a survival strategy. My internal clock is waiting for the specific signals that indicate winter has passed and conditions are perfect for germination. When you place me in the moist, chilled medium of your refrigerator for that three to four week period, you are not simply storing me. You are mimicking the cold, damp embrace of the soil through winter, a process you call cold stratification. This chilling period breaks my dormancy, convincing my inner biology that spring has arrived. It is the alarm clock that stirs me from my deep sleep, preparing me for the growth to come.
Once my cold treatment is complete, I am ready for a new home. My needs are simple but specific. A light, well-draining seed-starting mix is ideal; it holds the moisture I crave without drowning my delicate, emerging roots in soggy conditions. I require light to germinate, so please, do not bury me deeply. A gentle press onto the surface of the moistened soil is all that is needed. Covering my tray with a clear plastic dome creates a miniature, humid biome, a greenhouse that holds in the moisture from our first watering and maintains a consistent, comfortable temperature. This humid air is my first breath of spring, encouraging my shell to soften and split.
With the right balance of moisture, warmth, and light, I will begin to stir. A tiny root, called a radicle, is the first part of me to emerge, digging down into the growing medium to anchor myself and seek water and nutrients. Soon after, my cotyledons, or seed leaves, will push through the soil surface. These are not my true leaves; they are a part of the seed itself, and their job is to provide initial energy. At this critical stage, the plastic dome should be removed to prevent disease. I am now utterly dependent on you for the right conditions. I need bright, indirect light—a south-facing window or a grow light positioned just a few inches above me. Without it, I will become leggy and weak, stretching desperately for a sun I cannot find. Keep my soil consistently moist, but not waterlogged; my young roots are still fragile.
As my cotyledons spread wide, I will begin producing my true leaves. These will have the distinctive, lobed shape that is unique to my columbine species. This is a sign that I am establishing myself and beginning photosynthesis in earnest. When I have developed two to three sets of these true leaves and my roots have formed a small network within the cell of the tray, I am ready for more space. The process of transplanting me into a larger pot is a delicate one. Handle me by my leaves, not my fragile stem. A larger container filled with a quality potting mix gives my roots the room they need to expand and strengthen, which in turn supports the growth of my foliage. This period of growth under your care indoors allows me to become a robust seedling, strong enough to eventually withstand the variable conditions of the garden world.
