Just realized that every plant in the house is going to need a heck of a good watering before Yom Tov… or they will die, or at least, seriously wilt.
Seedlings don’t have a lot of wiggle room in terms of how much drying-out they can take. When your roots and stem are no thicker than a hair, once that hair’s-width pipeline dries out, that’s it. And yes, a lot of it is “self-watering” but that, as I’ve pointed out before, is a serious misnomer.
If you don’t put water IN in the first place, the plants – far from self-watering, which would involve running to the tap with a little cup or watering can – can actually droop and die almost as fast as plants that are in regular pots and peat pucks. There is a little more wiggle; the mats under my “self-watering” (aka sub-irrigated) seedlings do hold a bit of water, even when they feel almost dry, and the roots can get that water out, with a bit of a struggle.
But why make them work? Why not just water them before Yom Tov starts?
Well, maybe because we opened up the big box of fleishik stuff only to discover… a wooden spoon must have been put away damp last year, becuase it was covered in greenish-blue fuzz, and everything around it – aka every pot, pan and utensil in that HUGE fleishik box – was coated, if not as deeply as the spoon (which you’ll be relieved – especially if you’re eating here this week – to know that I threw away), with a delicate frosting of mould.
That wasn’t the only box that had mould in it, but that was definitely the biggest one. Others have a sprinkling here and there; you can smell it the second you open the box. Oh, and funniest of all (ha ha ha), my fleishik trivet, which is a cute rubbery Rubbermaid one, was nibbled. Chewed around the edges. There were no mouse droppings in the box, which was a relief, but something definitely got at it. So, again, another good scrubbing. (no, I’m not throwing away a perfectly good trivet!)
So, anyway. Instead of just TAKING everything from the boxes and PUTTING it in the cupboards… I am having to wash every single item as it comes out of the boxes. And all the cutlery. Sigh. This must be the year of gam zu l’tovah. The year of a thousand kapparos, little anxieties in this life to clear up little heavenly (dare I say?) karmic debts.
Between that and the cooking, which is nowhere near done yet, the plants are the last thing on my mind.
This is what I think of as the “do it to Julia” stage of Yom Tov preparation: I’m willing to kill the very things I love the most… just to get it all done.
And hey, now it’s
two three hours later
TWO DAYS LATER.
Yom Tov just went out.
Never mind… all is good with the world. A gutn Moid, world!