In a summer where the world has felt increasingly on fire, my instinct to save seed has grown equivalently. As heatwave followed heatwave, I’ve filled my pockets with the papery seed capsule of yellow rattle gathered from a wildflower meadow, jammed envelopes with fistfuls of the shuttlecock-shaped seed of perennial scabious (Scabiosa caucasica), and gathered sunbaked seed-pods from the garden’s sweet pea plants, each one a horticultural treasure chest in its own right.
Rather than enjoying its usual summer break, my homemade cold frame has instead filled up with freshly sown pots of home-harvested seed of Canterbury bells, white foxgloves, delphiniums, sweet rocket, lunaria, Argentine forget-me-nots and other “mystery” plants whose seed I forgot to label.
Meanwhile, the garden is filled with living proof of the resilient ability of seeds to survive as tiny living time capsules, invisible to the naked eye until conditions are ripe for germination. That remarkable capacity to endure has produced drifts of self-sown lime-green nicotiana, clouds of dove-grey poppies, sprinkles of Californian poppies, and several salad bowls’ worth of rocket, all legacies of plants from previous summers whose seedlings appeared earlier this year as if by magic.
Nature adapts and endures, but as gardeners we’d be wise not to take it all for granted
Seed of other choice plants has come my way as gifts from generous-minded gardening friends. The tiny, feathery, plume-shaped seed of a rare form of Clematis tangutica, for example, pressed into an envelope and sent in the post. A thimbleful of wild radish seed, shared by a fellow flower farmer-florist, and prized for its sculptural seed pods. The beady black seeds of the bronze-flowered ornamental perennial Bupleurum longifolium, and teeny pinches of poppy seed, each folded into twists of paper.
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Consequently, my seed stash has grown to the point where it now occupies several largish boxes, as well as a few out-of-the-way windowsills filled with teetering bowls of freshly harvested seed pods waiting to be prepped, labelled and stored. Sometimes I forget the individual treasures gathered until an opportunity to rummage presents itself, a fresh reminder of all the magic it contains. Now and again, I wonder what would happen were I to sow it together all at once, just for the crazy, chaotic beauty that would result.
[ How can I save seeds from my garden safely?Opens in new window ]
You can’t be a gardener, I think, and not eventually become fascinated by everything that seed represents. Inside even the tiniest is a complex genetic lineage stretching back millenniums, the result of innumerable chance occurrences combined with the intentional acts of countless gardeners and plant breeders. Seed symbolises a plant’s past and its future all at once, death and rebirth, ends and beginnings, but most of all, hope and the ability to endure against the odds.
In a summer as hot and dry as this one has been, the latter is key. Responding to the extreme weather, plants began the process of seed production much earlier than usual – a carefully weighed decision biologically hardwired into them to ensure the survival of the species.
If you’ve ever left a tray of seedlings to bolt after becoming pot-bound, you’ll see the same process at work. Deprived of what they need to properly thrive, and under increasing stress as a result of drought and heat, plants shorten their flowering period and get down to the all-important business of reproducing. But it’s a race against time.
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In very hot weather, for example, plants will sometimes abort their flowers and flower buds as a way of conserving precious energy, with serious consequences for seed production (no flowers, no seed).
Prolonged drought and heat stress can also disrupt the process of seed production in other ways, significantly affecting the number of seeds produced as well as the quality. Vegetative growth also slows right down, resulting in smaller, weaker plants, less capable of flowering and setting seed.
The crucial process of pollination of flowers is similarly affected in a sustained heatwave (again, no pollination, no seeds), both in terms of the production of pollen and nectar and the quality of these. As a result, flowers can become sterile or near-sterile. Sustained periods of hot, dry weather can also impact on pollinating insects’ ability to survive as well as to forage – yet another way in which the pollinating process is disrupted.
Avoid saving seed during and just after rain, which increases the risk of disease and decay setting in. Avoid collecting from hybrid plants, which won’t come true to type
All of the above makes it something of a miracle that seed production continues at all in a summer like this one, and yet somehow it does. Nature adapts and endures, but as gardeners we’d be wise not to take it all for granted. That’s especially true in a world where seed sovereignty is increasingly under threat from big business interests wishing to monopolise global supply chains for reasons of profit.
Looked at in this light, the humble process of home seed-saving is not so humble after all. Instead, it’s a powerful way for gardeners to assert our independence and self-sufficiency while simultaneously supporting biodiversity and helping to conserve heritage or little-known varieties not yet under the control of intellectual property rights or patents. By collecting seed from plants that have withstood challenging growing conditions such as those endured this summer, gardeners are also helping to select for resilience and vigour, plant traits that are ever more necessary as climate change takes hold.
If you’ve never saved seed before, there are a few essential rules to bear in mind. The first and most important is to ensure that it’s properly ripe. Signs include the colour of the seed pods and capsules (typically tan/brown, not green) as well as the seed itself (typically tan/brown/black, not green). Ripe seed is also firm and dryish to the touch rather than soft or damp. Avoid saving seed during and just after rain, which increases the risk of disease and decay setting in. Avoid collecting from hybrid plants, which won’t come true to type. If collecting from plants in the wild, do so with respect for sustainability, only harvesting very small amounts. Store in a cool, dry, dark place (paper envelopes are best) and label clearly. And lastly, take your cue from nature in generously sharing it with others.
[ ‘Can I collect seeds from sweet peas to grow again?’Opens in new window ]
This week in the garden
· Continue to strategically water plants showing signs of stress because of drought, always watering in the cool of the evening to the base of the plant, to maximise opportunities for it to permeate the soil. Bear in mind that very dry soils and compost have often become what’s termed hydrophobic, meaning they struggle to absorb water. Spiking the surface with a garden fork helps to overcome this, as does slowly watering in short bursts over time to allow it to slowly soak in.
· Take ripe or semi-hardwood cuttings of favourite tender perennials, shrubs, herbs, hedging and climbers, a great way to propagate plants for free. For a detailed step-by step guide, see rhs.org.uk
Dates for your diary
Claregalway Castle Annual Autumn Plant Fair: Sunday, September 6th, Co Galway. With a host of rare plant growers and specialist nurseries plus crafts and local food stalls, see claregalwaycastle.ie and galwaytourism.ie.
‘An Introduction to Seed Saving’ with the Irish Seed Savers Association: Saturday, September 12th, Capparoe, Scariff, Co Clare. Practical one-day workshop, €100, see irishseedsavers.ie.
