I don’t remember which story about seed saving I heard first, but there are two that stick in my mind as the most memorable. One is about the Svalbard Global Seed Vault, the world’s largest secure seed bank, located deep inside a mountain in Norway’s Svalbard archipelago in the Arctic. It holds over 1.3 million seeds from essential food crops from nearly every country.
Now, I like a good conspiracy theory as much as the next guy, but when I first heard about this seed bank, my first thought was, “Why would we ever need something like that?” That led to a deep dive into food security and supply chains.
The second story was about women sewing seeds into their clothing or braiding them into their hair. Throughout human history, people have been displaced for one reason or another — famine, war, forced or voluntary mobilization — and when those events occurred, women would find ways to bring seeds with them. What would you take with you if you suddenly had to flee your home? Our wise ancestors knew that seeds needed to be at the very top of their list.
Seeds probably aren’t at the top of your list, though. You, like me, probably buy your seeds from a catalogue or a local garden center if you garden at all. I can’t even imagine what our ancestors would think about that kind of abundance. Presumably, the same things they’d think if they walked into a grocery store and saw milk and eggs in cartons, and huge mounds of already-picked fresh fruits and vegetables. Would they trust the abundance? Should we?
I started trying to save seeds after learning about all this, but I didn’t do a very good job. Every year, the labels would get mixed up or misplaced. Some of the seeds made it into the ground, but was I consistently recording or carefully selecting for characteristics? No.
Now that the kids are older, and I am less distracted at any given moment, I have gotten marginally better at managing my seed library. Last year in particular, I really made an effort to keep track and save seeds from the best plants. The result is I don’t need to buy any seeds this year except for the fun of trying new varieties.
Usually, seed starting happens indoors, and it is a messy disaster, but yesterday the weather was warm and beautiful, so I took everything out on the deck instead. It was going great — the sun was shining, the air smelled sweet and fresh. I was working in the back, but was in the front yard when it happened: the air cooled almost instantly as a dark cloud covered the sun, and a cold gust of wind came shrieking up from the north.
It took me a moment to process; the change was that abrupt. But when I did, I realized all my seeds lined up on the back patio, in the direct path of the wind, were now being scattered. I didn’t bother to run, knowing it was likely too late to save anything.
I turned the corner on the east side of the house, however, and found no seeds. No containers. No mess. The wind was still howling as I wandered around the yard in a daze. Where had everything gone?
I finally went into the house. The kids had started their afternoon screen time before the weather changed, and sure enough, they were both seated in front of the TV, but beside them, the kitchen table was covered with the missing seeds.
My daughter looked over nonchalantly as I stood in silent shock, “I grabbed the stuff from the porch when it started to get windy,” she said, then turned back to her show.
I was flabbergasted. What modern 9-year-old would think to rescue jars of crusty tomato and cucumber seeds from a sudden windstorm? And then I thought of her great-great-grandmothers crossing oceans and rivers with their seeds stowed like precious jewels, and wondered if modern humans remember more than we realize about what needs to be at the top of the list.
