Saving Seeds

Daniel, saving seeds from an over-ripe zucchini.

I've posted about saving seeds a few times already--here, here, and again in my most recent post. The thing is, all of those posts are fairly general, or focus on a specific event, rather than the specific action of saving seeds. I feel very strongly about saving seeds, even though I'm fairly new to it. There's something autonomous about the action--yes, there are great seed companies out there, and I have written in praise of a couple Etsy seed sellers; nonetheless, saving seeds is a logical step in the cycle of growing. When I save seeds, it allows me to get to know the plant better. I learn to look at the fruit/plant health not just in terms of what will be useful for eating, but also in terms of quality of seed. Sometimes we forget that plants are not only food producers, but also self-perpetuators. Also, saving the seeds from something usually yields a lot more seeds than are usually in a seed packet.

Before beginning to save seeds, it is important to know whether the plant you wish to save from is an heirloom (or open-pollinated) or hybrid. Heirloom and open-pollinated plants produce seeds that will re-create the plant variety true to type. So if you have a Cherokee Purple tomato and save seeds from it, the seeds will grow into a Cherokee Purple when planted. Hybrid plants, although often seemingly strong and perfect, will produce seeds that will not have the complete genetic information from the plant; when planted, seeds from hybrid plants will often make a plant that reverts to the characteristics of one of the parent plants. For example, if you save seeds from a SunGold tomato and plant them, you may have a couple plants that are scrawny, a few plants that produce tomatoes quite unlike the SunGold (too small, and probably not very sweet), etc. When I was saving seeds last year, I didn't know about this, and saved a lot of SunGold seeds. Most of the plants from those seeds weren't strong enough to survive hardening off, and once I realized that I'd planted a hybrid, I got rid of the remaining 2 plants, not wanting to nurture a plant that would later disappoint me. 

Once you know that the plant is open-pollinated or heirloom, you can proceed to saving seeds. Last year, I saved the seeds of sweet peppers and squash, seeds that I'd usually discard. (I later learned that squash cross-pollinates very easily, but not until I grew some strange--but edible--mystery squash.) So far, at Beardsley Farm we have saved the seeds of okra, zucchini, cucumber, and sunflowers. All of these have very evident seeds that are easy to save. All that it took to save the seeds was cutting or splitting the vegetable and taking out the seeds. We had to dry the seeds of the cucurbits, but the okra and sunflower seeds were already dry, so all we had to do was collect them.  Also, you should select the seeds from the most ripe and most perfect fruit. If you have seen the seeds of a plant (during planting time), you know what they should look like as you collect them. For example, okra seeds are dark greenish-black, whereas in edible young okra, the seeds are white; as the okra pods mature and become too tough to eat, the seeds mature, too. Finally, when the okra pods dry out, the seeds are ready for saving. This process is similar with cucurbits--wait until they are ripe (for cucumbers and summer squash, they should be ripe beyond what is acceptable for eating), and then collect seeds, drying them out as necessary. Saving tomato seeds is a little more involved, but there are resources out there to help you with that, too. 

Once you have saved the seeds, make sure they are dry and ready for storage. I've been storing my seeds in small jars or paper envelopes. The very things a seed needs to germinate--light, water, soil--are the opposite of what a seed needs to remain dormant. Saved seeds need dark, cool, and dry storage areas. 

I wish I could write more about saving seeds; I have become quite passionate about it. I try to save many different kinds of seeds--just earlier in the week, I plucked a dried out marigold flower, and saved the seeds from it. There's something wonderful about noticing the cycle of plants and helping them continue it. Keep an eye open for a local seed swap near you, and start collecting seeds to trade with others.

New Beginnings

Saving seeds.

Today was my second day at CAC Beardsley Farm, and as completely exhausted as I am I wanted to express how excited I am to be working there. I've been a volunteer there for over a year, and very shortly after I began visiting the urban demonstration farm I became interested in working there full-time.
Today, we watered all the vegetables; harvested tomatoes and okra; cleaned up around the farm; cleared an unused community garden plot; and wound down the day by saving seeds from okra and an over-ripe zucchini. Every day, I plan to learn more about the community, gardening, and my own strengths. I am also glad to be sharing my experiences with you. Thank you for your (implicit and explicit) support.

Urban Land Scouts--Saving Seeds with John Coykendall

Yesterday for the Urban Land Scouts workshop (level 7), the scouts had a chance to spend time with John Coykendall, the master gardener at Blackberry Farm.

John has been collecting heirloom beans for over four decades, and knows an astonishing amount about the history of the various beans that he's tracked down. Some of the beans that he's acquired were guarded by families for generations; one of the field peas that he showed us dated back to the 1790s! Not only did the beans have fascinating histories, but they were also very beautiful. I'd been wanting to see (and grow!) Christmas Lima beans for a while now, and John had some of those, along with at least a dozen other varieties of beans and peas.

John also brought a few different gourds and explained about the various different uses for them. Before there was Tupperware, gourds were used for storing salt and sugar; they were also used as bowls and dippers. But I digress. What I loved the most was to hear John talk about the seeds.

In these days when produce is hybridized to withstand exceedingly long transport--as so many plants and vegetables are bred to create tougher, more uniform-looking fruit and seed--we are losing genetic diversity.

Not only that, but if we shop at most supermarkets, what we often buy--and get accustomed to--is bland, flavorless produce whose main goal is to arrive at its destination unbruised. Or we become used to just a few different kinds of grain, legume, or fruit, and don't even know about the value and taste of the hundreds of other varieties. I know that when I was canning apple sauce last fall, I was surprised to learn that some apples are better for sauce, while others are best for cider. And it's the same with beans: we know so few varieties, when there are still so many in existence!

This is why the conservation of heirloom seeds is so important--it preserves diversity and a wider genetic base. It keeps the history of our food alive; it keeps food important in ways greater than just sustenance. As the Urban Land Scouts were gathered around to begin the meeting, John Coykendall looked around the circle and said, "This is going to be the future of seed-saving--it's going to be you, and people with such interests."

I walked away from the day with a good bit of knowledge about seeds--for example, I learned that saving seeds of hybrid plants is no good, as the offspring will likely develop undesirable traits of one of the parent plants; this means that the Sungold seeds that I'd saved earlier are no good (and maybe it's for the best that those tomato plants got pummeled by hail). I also walked away with a pocket full of beans. I sat down when I got home, and sorted them--I have a couple of most of the types of beans and peas that John brought. They'll be good for the next 4-5 years, with at least a 50% germination rate, and I'll try to grow a few of them, maybe even this summer. The good thing is, even if I have one or two of the beans, I can grow them, and have more than enough seeds for the following year.

I hope to have the pleasure of John Coykendall's company again soon; he may be coming back to Beardsley next year, and I just might make a trip to Blackberry Farm to follow him around for a while. If you have a chance to spend some time with him, I highly recommend it!

How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed

I've been thinking about posting some more poetry, and simply couldn't help myself with this one. I've always been rather neutral towards Robert Frost, and now, suddenly, I can't stop reading his poems--especially those that are new to me.


Putting in the Seed

You come to fetch me from my work tonight
When supper's on the table, and we'll see
If I can leave off burying the white
Soft petals fallen from the apple tree
(Soft petals, yes, but not so barren quite,
Mingled with these, smooth bean and wrinkled pea),
And go along with you ere you lose sight
Of what you came for and become like me,
Slave to a springtime passion for the earth.
How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed
On through the watching for that early birth
When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed,
The sturdy seedling with arched body comes
Shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs.

(1916)

It's that time here in Knoxville; even though the official Last Frost date is about a week off, I don't think we'll have another frost before then. Plant those beans!

Urban Land Scouts--Saving Seeds

7 - The Urban Land Scout plants and cares for seeds.

Seed saving is an important gesture of both hope through the winter and self reliance. It is how generations of growers have preserved heirloom varieties or hybridized new strains with combinations of desirable traits.

Sungold

Last year, our CSA share included Sungold Tomatoes. I don't know what it was--I usually prefer a slightly tart tomato, and love Green Zebras--but the Sungolds won my heart. I would dig them out from the half-bushel basket as soon as we would get into the car to drive home, and eat a few right then and there. I tried rationing them throughout the week, but quickly found out that when ripe, these little golden spheres don't last long; I knew that I'd been saving them for too long when a few of the Sungolds' skins broke. It was then that I decided that I must save some of the seeds and plant them in the spring, rather than just composting the tomatoes.
I know that because we're signed up for the same CSA this year, we'll probably get more Sungolds, but I don't care--I could eat these tomatoes every day. Besides, there are rumors that the Sungolds make a beautiful tomato jam, and I'm itching to try to make a few pints of this, knowing how much I like home-made ketchup. So, about a month or so ago, I started some of the tomato seeds inside. We haven't had as much sun as I'd hoped for, and our window sills aren't the best for tomatoes, but they seem to be doing well. I have a couple plants of few different varieties, but I'm most excited for the Sungold tomatoes.

If you've never saved tomato seeds before, you should try it; it's not difficult, and very satisfying. Even if you just grow one tomato plant, the work is worth it; and it's completely worth it to know exactly where the seeds came from, too!

I would also like to encourage you to consider Urban Land Scouts. There are several workshops coming up, and all of them are a great way to sharpen awareness of the natural world and to meet some wonderful folks. Being a part of the Urban Land Scouts has challenged me personally to do more, to be involved in the community, to be aware of my environment. As I expressed in my essay for the ULS blog, the program is a positive "response to fragmented communities, and people's dissatisfaction of being alienated from their surroundings." The steps it encourages you to take may be small, but they have deeper reverberations in your life and the life of others.

___________

Of course, I later learned that saving seeds from the Sungold tomato is not advisable, as it is a hybrid. You can see my post about heirloom seeds and John Coykendall here.

Starting from Seed

Until last September, I viewed seeds as a type of magic, or novelty, or a little of both--they were something that others could bring to life, but not I. They were things that had too many requirements to bother with, and I was never patient enough with them to see the return on my efforts. And then, I planted some collard seeds, and by November, there was enough for us to have as a side for a meal. And those collards have actually survived the winter, battling the slugs, the cold, and my neglect--and in a few weeks, there'll be enough to eat, again. So I'm glad to finally give starting from seed a chance.

Yesterday, there was an exchange of seeds at The Birdhouse, and it was so good to be around people who were as excited about seeds as I was--although I understand, mine is a newcomer's joy. I was glad to see so many people with so much faith in seeds (their magic, their life)! The picture above is the first Sturon onion seedling; since then, I've had four more sprout. I keep them close-by, on my work-table, and watch as they unfold their spindly little greens. There is nothing more beautiful to me now. Last night, when I was trying to fall asleep and could not, I imagined that I was a restless little seed, waiting for spring.