When my daughter was little, I made up a grace we sang before dinner that I still refer to when I forget the sequence of the life stages of a plant:
First the seed,
Then the root,
Then the flower,
Then the fruit,
May this food on which we dine,
Make our little lights to shine.
I usually buy my plants as seedlings, already started in the pot and then I transplant them into the the ground or a bigger pot. My experience is limited when it comes to germinating seeds so I was excited and a little nervous when I picked up a gift of a dozen seed packets sent by a dear friend from California. She knows I’m moving back to the north side and am eager to plant my garden. The collection includes beans, lettuce, fennel seeds, radishes and a variety of flowers. Examining each packet, I smiled imagining she’d included a packet of the seeds of abundance, of healing and forgiveness, true love and one for a new car until I realized that she had.
A thing newly learned turns up everywhere, so it’s not surprising that the seed conversation continued after jazz at the Sapphire Grill last Sunday. I was talking to my favorite bass player about music and discipline when the conversation turned to gardening. I told him I wanted to farm my newly bull dozed land. He asked: “What’s the hold up?” Even though I won’t be living there for another month he urged me to get started now by planting seeds. He has cups and cans and containers of seeds sprouting all over his house and garden. Tossing tomato, papaya and passion fruit seeds into the earth he pays attention to what comes up and is always messing with seeds.
The dictionary defines seed as a:
1. ripened plant ovule containing an embryo and
2. a source and a new beginning.
I like the idea of being there from the start and slowing down enough to watch a tomato seed morph into a tomato and an eggplant seed into an eggplant while I marvel that each kernel contains all the information necessary for the fulfillment of its unique promise of perfection – just like us.
I’m learning about: making the soil ready; the conditions under which certain things thrive; how to choose a good seed; how to protect, care for and allow each seed to make its way or not and then to sit back and enjoy.
As with painting my house, the effect of the effort and the result go far beyond a pretty cottage and buff shoulders. As a meditation and symbolic ritual dance, painting my house was a practical and creative way to find my way home. As I gather my cups and containers for planting the seeds of papayas, pigeon peas, tomatoes, eggplant, kale and fennel seeds (for starters), I know that I am absorbing a kind of spiritual chlorophyll and plugging into a potent life force in the process.
We all started from seed. The language of germination, sowing, pollinating, rooting, fertilizing and harvesting apply to the produce of the fields and orchards, the animal kingdom and to the produce of our minds – our lives. We seed our days with thoughts and either enjoy or bemoan the fruits of our planting.
I’m getting my hands dirty and starting from scratch. This isn’t going to be just any box cake kind of garden. I’m digging deep, preparing my soil, tossing the rocks, choosing my seeds carefully, planting according to the almanac and bathing my seedlings n water and in love.
Along with the vegetable beds, I’ve started tilling and preparing my inner soil. I am gathering a precious collection of seeds for what’s next in the garden of my most amazing life.
I’m thinking a seed exchange might be a great idea.
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