From The Innkeepers

On Sowing Seeds

Here at the tail end of winter, I am grateful to have discovered a way to begin tangibly moving toward spring. Have you heard of winter sowing? It’s a different kind of winter sewing from what happens at the quilting retreats we’ve been hosting. This type of winter sowing involves planting seeds in containers in late winter and putting them outside. Old milk jugs, large Ziplock bags, and salad containers are all examples of vessels that can be used. The basic idea is that if you plant the seeds inside these containers and set them outside when it is still cold and snowy, the container collects the right amount of moisture as it waits. When the weather warms, it becomes a tiny greenhouse that helps the seeds germinate and grow. All you need in order to try this is some empty containers that let in light, potting mix, seeds that are cold tolerant, and a little bit of courage.

I don’t know about you, but a seed catalog in January is one of the few pieces of mail I look forward to. In our past life, I often flipped and dreamed and folded corners of pages, but rarely ordered much because our garden didn’t have much space left in it after I packed it with perennials. Aaron used most of the open space for his dahlias, so I threw down some zinnias and cosmos seeds, and that was about it. This year, armed with a new yard that gets full sun, a lot more time to work on creative projects, and an increased tolerance for leaps of faith after six months of being a new small business owner, I began to formulate an ambitious, some may say insane, plan for a cut flower garden. My dream is to be able to fill the Inn with fresh flowers in the summer and maybe eventually have a little roadside flower stand or host pick your own bouquet events.

The order of operations here is not necessarily the recommended one, but this is the sequence my 2026 gardening journey has taken so far. First, I combed through the first seed catalog to arrive and made a list of every flower I wanted to try growing. Next, I realized I was $30 away from free shipping so I added many more varieties to secure free shipping and ensure that I had twice as many seeds as I could possibly plant in a year. Then, I had to figure out the best way to start a new garden bed. I chose the no-till method and ordered 400 square feet of silage tarp, which is a heavy-duty plastic used by farmers to kill grass and weed seeds.

What I haven’t figured out yet is where this garden will actually live. I keep waffling about locations and size because I’m torn about altering the natural beauty of our landscape and “cluttering” it up with a cut flower garden. Every possible location will change the view. Also, I know a responsible farmer would put up a deer fence, but a deer fence is unsightly, so I’m considering trying planting methods that might naturally deter them and risking some loss. I want to protect the investment of my time and money, but I also want the payoff to be a garden that is as beautiful and as harmonious with the natural landscape as it can be. Some people locally have told me that deer don’t bother their flower gardens that much, but I know the heartbreak of waking up to find the tops chopped off of the newly sprouted tulips I had planted in Ann Arbor. This is going to have to be a wait and see situation, and I know either decision will probably result in some disappointment.

My last step in this sequence was researching the specifics of winter sowing. How specifically does one prepare the containers and what seeds work best with this method? I realize this should have been the first step, but some journeys are improvisational. I had already been collecting empty jugs from what we had used at the Inn and what we could snag from the recycling center when we dropped off our recycling. For my first round of seeds I had 16 jugs, so I chose the seeds that benefit from cold stratification to be planted in my first round.

What is cold stratification you ask? It turns out that some seeds have a protective barrier that prevents them from sprouting unless they have survived the cold and wet conditions of winter. It seems counterintuitive that something could thrive more successfully after being exposed to cold and harsh conditions, but isn’t that why us four seasons folks wouldn’t give up winter? The vibrancy we feel springing forth into the warmer months could not be replicated if we were living in sunny 75-degree weather year round. And on a broader scale, most of the richness in my life is a result of the contrast with the hardships I have survived, so maybe it’s not so counterintuitive.

In the same vein, I learned that some seeds don’t absolutely need to go through the freeze and thaw, but germinate more successfully and grow stronger if exposed to cold temperatures. Butterfly weed, chamomile, snapdragons, yarrow, feverfew, and flax are all seeds that I ordered that thrive after cold exposure. And some seeds like strawflower, calendula, and statice don’t absolutely need the cold, but they don’t mind it being set out early and forgotten about, so why not let them join the milk jug party?

So over two weekends, I prepared 28 jugs by cleaning them, drilling holes in the bottom, and slicing them almost in half horizontally, leaving an inch or two still attached near the handles to create a hinge. I filled them with potting mix, wet the soil, sprinkled the seeds in, stuck a plastic marker labeling what each jug contains (in case the outside label washes off or fades), taped them up, and labeled the outsides too. I carted them out to the backyard with their tops off and nestled them in the snow next to our raised vegetable garden bed, where they would be protected from the wind. I said a silent little prayer of hope that all of this money and effort would not be wasted.

Over the next few months, the soil will be moistened from rain and snow, the jug will get plenty of airflow, the translucent plastic will act like a mini greenhouse, and if all goes as planned, I will have hundreds of seedlings to plant in a yet-to-be-determined location that may or may not become a deer buffet.

Even though I don’t know how the results will turn out, what I like about the winter sowing method so far is that it allows you to start gardening outside when there’s barely anything else worth doing outside. Putting your hands in soil, even if it comes from a bag on your kitchen counter, is a way to get back to nature a little early. It’s also kind of exciting setting your seeds in this little capsule and sending them into outer space to hope that they thrive, like tiny astronauts being sent out on a mission: to boldly grow where no seed has grown before. I’m also a big fan of anything “set it and forget it.” The seeds sprout when they are ready. You don’t trick them into sprouting with indoor lights. You put them in conditions where they are able to initiate life on their own in their own time. Finally, there is built-in suspense in this process, which is a little bit thrilling. I did my research and gave it my best shot, but I won’t know until summer how it will all turn out.

It’s ironic that this month has also been a month of planting seeds for the business that I hope will grow into new retreats. I have been trying to boost online awareness of the Inn as well as create and promote a new retreat concept of my own. The most challenging part of being a business owner so far is working so hard to create the conditions for growth but not knowing how they will turn out. I have come to realize that being comfortable with uncertainty is my latest self-development project. Winter sowing has become a good exercise in practicing this skill. So consider this my first blog with a cliffhanger ending.

Stay tuned in June,

Erin, Aaron, and Ryan
Keepers of the Rustic Gate