Saving Seeds

The hyacinth bean vine and the four o’clocks have produced mature seeds for the harvesting. They can be planted next year for a new crop; until then, they, and the remaining ones can be saved for several years in a cool, dry place. Glassine envelopes are often recommended but I’ve noticed that many seed companies are packaging their seeds in resealable foil packs so I’m saving foil-lined tea bag packages. I once met the guy who invented foil-lined packaging—thanks Mr. B!

Saving seeds of old varieties has become an important endeavor as hybrids are quickly replacing them. Hybrids can only be grown from patented seeds that you buy from the grower. While hybrids will often produce seeds in your home garden and even grow, the plant will revert to one of its parents rather than the beautiful hybrid that you bought. Sometimes that’s good but it’s not usually what you’re looking for. When we lived in New England, we learned what a problem this is for farmers. They can no longer save seed from their harvest to plant for next year’s crop—they have to spend a lot of money to buy more seed.

I enjoy hybrid flowers but many hybrid flowers and vegetables are “designed” for a particular market such as tough-skinned tomatoes that can withstand long-distance trucking and a long shelf-life in stores, but are fairly tasteless—that’s why home-grown tomatoes taste so much better. While roses aren’t generally grown from seed, they’re an illustration of contrast between the old varieties and those grown “for the market”. The voluptuous old-fashioned “cabbage roses” with their full-blown petals and heady fragrance are unmatched in their style of beauty but they could never stand up to the rigors of the floral industry. The closely-wrapped petals and long, sturdy stems of the American Beauty–type rose are better suited to last for their trip from the greenhouse to the wholesaler to the florist to your home but lack much fragrance (you can make them last longer still by changing their water every day and recutting the stems at an angle). It’s a trade-off but our planet would suffer loss if the only plants cultivated were those of market convenience.

Besides, it’s fun to share seed with other gardeners. My friend R. gave me hyacinth bean vine seeds from her garden.

Trial Run

The new miniature hybrid petunias—Million Bells, have been the latest thing at garden centers for the last couple of years. The colors of red, deep magenta and orange are enticing. And can you believe it; they bloom all summer without deadheading! More orange flowers—I finally bought a plant this year. At $3.99 for a small plant it was an investment.

The flowers turn several colors of orange as they develop and they do bloom all summer; they’re still blooming—sparsely. It’s nice to not have to deadhead them in order to keep them blooming though the sepals turn brown so I remove them anyway.

The reason Million Bells don’t have to be deadheaded is that they don’t reproduce from seeds; they’re a hybrid reproduced by cuttings—both aspects contribute to the high price (being a hybrid and reproduction by cutting taking longer). Usually, when a plant has spent flowers it will go to the next step in its development—making seeds. Then when the seeds are mature the plant dies; if it’s an annual or dies back until the next season if a perennial. Deadheading turns back the clock on this process, causing the plant to continue blooming.

Will I buy Million Bells again? Since they bloom, for me—even with fertilizer, only sparsely and the small-sized flowers are best appreciated at eye-level, probably not. But it’s good to try new things. Perhaps next year there will be something else new or rediscovered.

Today is forecast to be another gorgeous day--sunny and in the 70's! It's still too cool to be out very long yet but the sun is warming up.

Souvenir—To Remember

For the first morning in awhile I raised the blinds on a window without raindrops and a parking area without puddles. The weather is sunny and in the low 70’s—perfect.
The geraniums are blooming again. Though my family has long avoided geraniums because of allergies, I’ve enjoyed having a few in a hanging basket each year.


Since they grew nearly everywhere I looked in Europe, well, I just had to get some—for the memories. (I had however, grown pink ivy-leafed ones in prior years.) Mine though, are a hybrid that makes magenta and orange flowers—on the same flower, one of my favorite color combinations.