Every spring, most of us do the same thing. We open a packet of lettuce seed, tip the lot into a short row, and stand back feeling virtuous. Three weeks later nothing has appeared. Three weeks after that we are drowning in leaves, pressing bags of rocket onto neighbours and watching the rest bolt in the heat. By August the salad drawer is empty again and we are buying plastic-wrapped leaves from the supermarket.
The fault is not your soil or your watering. It is the timing. A single sowing of a fast-maturing crop delivers everything at once, and most of it arrives in a two-week window you cannot possibly eat your way through. Successional sowing simply means dividing that same packet into small batches and sowing one every fortnight. The total harvest is remarkably similar. The difference is that it arrives in manageable handfuls from May until October.
Not everything wants this treatment. Parsnips, maincrop carrots, Brussels sprouts and winter brassicas are one-sowing crops — they need the whole season. But anything harvested young and eaten fresh is made for succession.
For a household of two or three, a 60cm row of salad leaves sown every fortnight is genuinely enough. A single packet of lettuce will stretch to a dozen successions if you ration it.
The practical challenge is space, so plan it before you sow. Mark out a strip of bed roughly 60cm wide and reserve it for succession. Every two weeks you sow the next short row directly behind the last one, working steadily along the strip. By midsummer you will have a living timeline of seedlings, thinnings and full-grown leaves in one tidy band.
If your beds are full, use modules. Sow six or eight seeds into a small tray on the windowsill or in a cold frame, then plant the cluster out when the previous row is finished. This is particularly useful in June, when bare soil dries out fast and germinating seed in modules is far more reliable.
Label everything with the sowing date. A short cane and a written label takes ten seconds and saves you a summer of squinting at identical seedlings wondering what on earth is growing there.
Little and often does not mean careless. Small sowings still need doing well.
In the heat of July, choose a spot that gets shade after midday. Lettuce sown in full sun will bolt before it fills your salad bowl.
Most people stop sowing in July and then wonder why September is bare. Keep going — just adjust what you sow. From late July, switch to heat-tolerant lettuce and corn salad, and shade the rows with a bit of fleece stretched on hoops. August sowings of lamb's lettuce, land cress and winter purslane will crop right through the colder months with a cloche for protection.
Radishes are the exception. Stop sowing them by early September, as short days and cooling soil make them woody and hot rather than crisp. Hardy winter lettuces such as a good butterhead can be sown in early September for a late-autumn cut.
Come October, tidy the strip, spread a little compost, and let it rest. You have earned it.
The whole system rests on one small ritual. Choose a day — Sunday morning with a mug of tea works well for most of us — and walk the plot with your seed tin. Sow one short row. Water it in. Write the date on the label. Ten minutes, no more.
Do that from March to September and you will pick fresh salad leaves on more days than not, without ever facing a sink full of wilting lettuce you cannot give away. It is the quietest, most reliable trick in the kitchen garden, and it costs nothing but a little discipline.
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