Seed saving. Oh, oh, there’s nothing like it. Saving the seeds of a plant you’ve nurtured is exciting and incredibly humbling. There’s just so much that depends upon a seed. It doesn’t matter if it’s as tiny as grains of sand, like mullein, tobacco, or mint, or if it’s as large as a castor bean or a peanut. Within one single seed lives a future that can help sustain a community. One seed is nothing short of miraculous potential.
Seed Saving
I save the seeds from the things that I grow. I’ve even saved seeds from organic veggies I’ve bought from the farmer’s market and other trusted grocers. I like the idea of nurturing the seeds that will go on to produce generation after generation of nourishment for friends, family, and neighbors. I like the idea of not having to spend $5 on 12 seeds. And even more importantly, my saved seeds produce plants that are better adapted to my growing region, my climate, and my microclimate.
Another thing that excites me about collecting seeds is seed swaps. Exchanging seeds gives us the opportunity to learn, share planting experiences, create new memories, and make new connections. Seed swaps let us experiment with different varieties of plants, expand our agricultural knowledge, and pass something new to others. Even more personal than a seed swap is sharing seeds with family and friends.
Deep Seeded
But the more seeds I save, the more contemplative I become. I think about how I am a seed, how my words and my actions are seeds. I am fortunate to have been thoughtfully selected, planted, watered, and fertilized throughout my life. But I’ve also endured some droughts and intense heat, cloudy days, and even hungry pests. I’m still here. I still produce seeds. I still produce flowers. I still produce fruit. Sometimes I need a good pruning, other times I need some fertilizer. Season after season, I’m growing and producing.
The ancestors who went before me prepared the soil that I am now rooted in. They’re the mycelium, the fungal network, that feeds me. It whispers to my soul the secret wisdom of names and energies that have long since been forgotten. The seeds that I save, just like me, my ideas, this farm, this community—are full of potential and hope. They are doing the work of bringing nourishment to my community and my family. These seeds are worth saving. Community is worth saving. The work of growing these seeds, saving them, and passing them on is worth saving.
There are decades-old seeds that still hold the key to life within them. They’re just waiting for the soil, the water, and the warmth of the sun. Believe it or not, there are even centuries-old seeds that are still alive. Oh, the stories these seeds would tell of sunrises, sunsets, land stewards, culture, and more. Indigenous caretakers and growers took the time and the care to properly save them. They’ve even propagated these plants so that others would benefit from their beauty, nutrition, and medicine.
Immortal Tales
I’ve heard tales of captured Africans having brought seeds across the Atlantic by braiding them into their hair. The people were scared and may not have truly understood what was happening. They knew that those who were captured never returned. Perhaps they were well aware that their capture would mean enslavement on unfamiliar continents with cruelties and hardships. Either way, they resolved to bring tokens of home with them, just in case. Immortal tales like this take root in our hearts and blossom there. Retelling them in the oral tradition allows us to use them as tools to reorient ourselves as individuals and collectively.
I won’t lie, I love this idea of forward thinking, courage, and ingenuity. But even if the seeds of okra, bambara, peanuts, callaloo, cowpeas, and others didn’t make their way across the ocean tucked away in someone’s hair, I am so glad that somehow they made the trip. They were important to the survival of my ancestors. In fact, these seeds helped build the economies of the countries these stolen Africans were pirated to. Had it not been for the agricultural knowledge of the ancestors and the relationships they had formed with the land in their native lands, many enslavers would not have had the successes that they had in South, Central, and North America, the Caribbean, and Europe.
These stories have been passed on from generation to generation, and are in many ways immortalizing those who unwillingly came across the seas. The tales that we tell carry meaning and energy, and they keep memories alive. Think of them as the groundwater that nurtures future generations. Not only that, these stories also give them a sense of belonging and pride in those who descended before them. These windows into the past give us context and guidance for the future.
There is a tale in my family of a woman who lost her husband, the love of her life, when he was just 41. Of course, she was lonely without him, but she had to continue raising their five children. She remarried 13 years later. She was now tied to Crowley, and Crowley was not a great fit for her and her children. Good thing for us, it wasn’t long before she divorced that guy.
Linner was strong and unwilling to dim her light. She is my great-grandmother. Georgia born and raised, she knew who she was and who she was not. She demanded respect and excellence for herself. Her path wasn’t easy, but she grew everywhere she was planted, from Georgia to Tennessee to Ohio and the stops in between. She was planting seeds in her children and preparing the soil for her children’s children–me. She is a part of me, and as long as I have the ability to keep her memory alive, her seeds continue to be sown.
Most Precious Seeds
My ancestors’ stories are some of my most precious seeds. I lovingly gather and save them. They will live on through me and my children and my children’s children. Even if none of my children share the same passion for growing food and collecting our ancestors’ stories, I know they will retell them fondly, because I share these stories so vividly with them. I’m retelling memories. I am saving seeds of remembrance that will be viable for centuries to come.
The seeds that you save and pass on are instrumental in the continued growth of your community. Even if you’re not sure where to start, give it a try. Put the seeds on a paper towel to dry, then store them somewhere safe and dry until you’re ready to plant them or pass them along. You’ll be surprised at how simple yet rewarding it is.
Got a seed story to share? Please do!