Seed Catalog Season: What to Order

The seed catalogs showed up in December and I’ve been dog-earing pages like a kid with a Toys R Us flyer ever since. My wife has learned to just leave them on the coffee table and not ask questions.

The problem is that seed catalogs are designed by people who want you to spend money. Which, fair enough, that’s how businesses work.  But I’ve ordered impulsively enough times to know that getting excited in January and getting a good harvest in August are two very different things. I once ordered four varieties of specialty eggplant for a zone that treats eggplant like a personal insult.  Lesson learned. Mostly.

Start With What Actually Worked Last Year

Before you open a single catalog, write down what you grew last year and whether it was worth the space. Not whether it was interesting. Whether you actually ate it and whether your family would eat it again.  My youngest daughter will eat exactly one vegetable raw and that vegetable is snap peas.  So we grow a lot of snap peas. This is not complicated.

For zone 8b specifically, we have a pretty long growing season and mild wet winters that let us do things gardeners in colder zones can only dream about.  We can direct sow spinach and kale in February. We can keep overwintered crops going through December.  That’s real. Plan around it.

What I’m Actually Ordering This Year

Here’s my actual short list. Not a curated fantasy list, just what makes sense for a backyard with about 120 square feet of beds.

Lettuce. Always lettuce. I get the Territorial Seed loose-leaf mix because it’s cheap per packet and I can succession sow it from February through September. Direct sow, no fuss, no transplants.  If you’re new to zone 8b, lettuce is the one that will make you feel like you know what you’re doing even when you don’t.

Sugar snap peas. See above re: my daughter. Oregon Sugar Pod II is the one I keep coming back to. Does well in cool wet springs, which, if you’ve spent a March in Redmond, you know we have plenty of.

Tomatoes, but only two varieties. This is where I fight myself every year.  The catalogs show 47 heirloom tomatoes and they all have names like Mortgage Lifter and Cherokee Purple and I want all of them. I am allowed two. One slicer, one paste. In our climate you want varieties that finish before the October rains show up.  Siletz and Willamette are both bred for exactly this and I’ll take a reliable producer over an interesting one every time. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way, sitting in October with a pile of green tomatoes and no plan.

Zucchini. One plant. One. I made the mistake of planting three my first year.  My neighbors still haven’t fully forgiven me. Things got out of hand, fast. You could say it was an uncontrollable squash situation.

Kale. A few Red Russian starts from seed in late winter.  It overwinters beautifully here and keeps producing into spring if you don’t let it bolt. I’ve had the same kale patch basically going for two years running. You can’t beat that kind of ROI, and I say that as someone who counts every seed.

Where to Actually Buy Seeds Without Losing Your Mind

My default is Territorial Seed Company because they’re based in Oregon and breed specifically for Pacific Northwest conditions. Their variety notes actually mention things like “performs well in cool damp springs” instead of assuming you garden in Kansas. Worth the few extra cents per packet.

I also keep an eye on the seed swap at the library in late January.  Free seeds, neighbors, zero shipping costs. It’s my kind of event.

For something like a seed starting planner, I know some people swear by dedicated garden journals and honestly I get it.  I use a spiral notebook same information, worse cover art.

The One Rule That Actually Saves Me Money

Set a budget before you open the catalog. Not after.  Before. I do $35.00 total, which sounds low until you realize most packets are $3.49 to $4.75 and you only need one packet of most things.  If something doesn’t fit in the budget it goes on a waitlist. If I still want it in February I can revisit.  Half the time I don’t.

Also: don’t order something just because the photo is good.  Seed catalog photography is doing a lot of heavy lifting and your backyard in Redmond is not the sun-drenched Mediterranean garden they’re implying.

Anyway. January is for planning.  February is for starting things indoors under lights. Right now the job is to make a list and stick to it, which is harder than it sounds when the Burpee catalog is sitting there telling you that you absolutely need a striped Armenian cucumber this year.

You don’t need the striped Armenian cucumber. Probably.  I’m still thinking about it.

Photo by Zoe Richardson on Unsplash