Seeds are a great big pain

Attempting to create order

Sorting of seeds last year was a melange of the best of intentions meeting with the stark reality of not having enough time or resources to do it right. Luckily, the outcome of last year's attempt informed the changes I made this year. I am not sure if hording of seed is a trauma response or simply what happens to everyone who starts saving seed thinking that "next year I'll use it all". Last month, I sat down and resolved to sort through boxes and bags of seed packets, envelopes, etc. 

One of the things I learned about saving seed: I don't need to save pounds of bean seeds. Even a nice wide row (over-planted in the extreme) of bean seeds couldn't consume 1/100th the amount of seeds I had saved. Luckily, bean seeds are mighty tasty after an hour in the Instant Pot. 

The grocery bag full of lupine seed was a whole different issue. In early November, most of the pods were still tightly clamped around their tiny black seeds. If only I had thought to tape shut that paper grocery bag from Traders Joe's I would never have discovered that lupine seeds will pop and throw seeds far across the dining room table as they dry. Hah! Surprise!

How many lupine seeds do you need in a year? How many seeds come in a standard package of seed? A typical packet of lupine seed from Swallowtail Garden Seeds is a gram or about 35 seeds. Sitting on my dining room table is a grocery bag, full of seed pods. I think I have enough seeds for the coming apocalypse for my own needs as well as everyone in the neighborhood. We're talking about multiple pounds of lupine seed.

Really, this was just peas and beans.

Storing my seeds like this was convenient but also frustrating and disorganized.

 

It was a tight fit (okay, it barely fits)... but all of the veggie seeds are now in a binder.

The real discovery that came from sorting through my seed horde is that I had more than enough. It made me realize there's always a new plant to try, a new variety that would be perfect if.... which means I needed to rethink my seed consumption. The first sort was to separate flowers from veggies. Easy enough. Then I started thinking about why I hadn't used all the seed (or any of the seed) in past years. Was I saving it for something special? Had I just forgotten I had that particular seed? Or was it disappointing? 

With the seeds roughly sorted, it was so much easier to go back through my notes and photos, comparing what worked to what failed to thrive. One thing I let go of: morning glory (Ipomoea) has become a garden thug. No need to save those seeds. If anything, I need to keep it from reseeding from now on. It has started strangling one of my favorite rambling roses. Another seed pile I was able to get rid of: squash. Both summer and winter squashes have proven to be not worth the effort. Between the space they eat up and the pests that seem to come along with them... it just wasn't worth it. I've heard that doing things like sowing seeds later in the season cuts down on the squash vine borer. I might hold on to a few of the butternut and honeynut seeds for another year. 

As soon as I had a pile of seeds that weren't outdated (some of these seeds were over ten years old) and weren't water damaged (it happens to all gardeners, I'm sure, right?).... I realized that they could be given away. I posted them to our local Facebook give-away group and they were gone within the day. Then I went through the huge envelopes of seeds I had saved from my own plants; consisting primarily of perennial flowers (and a few different annuals). I divvied up those seeds into smaller manila coin envelopes (with printed labels no less!). I kept a couple packets for my use (next year!) and set the rest aside to give as gifts this year. 

Bit by bit, the mountain of seeds became more manageable. One might even call it organized. I still have seeds that I hope to procure once the NARGS and SIGNA seed exchanges take place this winter. With this investment in organization, I feel more inclined to share seed with other seed exchanges. I also have a better idea of what seeds are crossing and which are staying true to variety. Side note: columbine (aquilegia) seedlings can end up forming a lovely, dense ground cover if you accidentally spill seed while you're trying to save it in the summer. Ask me how I know. 

Last year, as I was wrapping up work on Leto's apartment, I took a look around the sleeping garden and saw very clear signs of where I had tracked seed. Lupine seeds had sprouted in the late autumn wherever I had carried them on my wet shoes through the woodchipped paths. Sea holly (eryngium) had formed large mats of seedlings wherever I failed to deadhead them. My absolute favorite little surprise this fall was discovering a tiny seedling from crocosmia 'Lucifer'... about five feet from the parent plant. Looking like a sprout of grass coming up in the middle of other perennials, I was almost ready to pull it out. It was only when I got close enough that I recognized it for what it was. Part of me considered that it wasn't where I intended for crocosmia to be growing. Another part of me was thrilled to finally have crocosmia seeds proving their viability. In the end, I decided that it could go through winter and we'll revisit the question in the spring. 

I figured that if I was going to mention crocosmia, there should probably be a nice photo to accompany the discussion. I hope I can find someone willing to share seeds from some of the yellow varieties.