I bought arugula seeds late last year, though I won’t sow any until it cools down a little more. Conventional garden wisdom has it that these are seeds you do not need to buy once you have planted them. Unless you want a different variety. When weather was more reliable, these plants would grow, flower, produce seeds, and reseed with abandon. When conditions were right, the seeds would germinate. And then, if necessary, you could remove the excess plants and gift or compost them.
Now, it’s different.
Reseeded dhania plants struggled with the drought. And gave up. Arugula has to be resown fresh. Harvesting seeds is difficult. In fact, the last time I sowed dhania, I barely got any seeds. I no longer get random radish plants from stray seeds, as I did a few years ago.
It’s not that reseeding has failed entirely. Tithonia—red sunflower—produces little forests, and I have to thin a lot. Marigolds remain faithful. Calendula are less faithful, even though they once reseeded prolifically. Beans are reliable. I need to thin some. Potatoes always return: I can never seem to harvest all of them, so a tuber will always remain in the ground. And I know that plants think in ways I cannot understand. Seeds might remain dormant for years, and surprise us many years later.
The first time I grew sulfur cosmos, the plants were small and spindly. The flowers were unremarkable. I carefully gathered the seeds from the few plants that came up and sowed them. The plants that came up were much stronger and produced more flowers. They were taller and had thicker stems. Each year since—it’s been about 5 years—the cosmos have reliably resown. They have learned the soil and seasons. They can thrive here.
Plants that reseed over multiple years have accumulated wisdom. They know the soil: its flavor, its texture, its capacity to hold water, its microorganisms, its moods, its colors. And the soil knows them. Reseeded plants tend to be healthier and more vigorous.
I promise this is not some extended metaphor. It really is about gardening.
I am still learning how to be patient with plants I sow for the first time. To understand that the first time they grow, they are teaching themselves about the soil and the water and the air and the insects and the microbes and the clouds and the sun and the wind. And that, somehow, all that knowledge is stored somewhere. If I am lucky, the plants go to seed with that knowledge, and the seeds return to gather more knowledge. Although that sounds extractive. What I mean to say is that they are learning how to be in relation with the soil and the water and the air and the insects and the microbes and the clouds and the sun and the wind. And should they seed and reseed, they persist in creating relation. They grow in healthy relation.
Each time I sow a new seed, a flower or vegetable I’ve never tried before, I hope I have the patience to learn from it, and that it has the luck to learn how to be in relation so it can thrive.
so beautiful! 🌿🌸