I gave a talk about seeds the other day. (Please don't
yawn, dear reader!)
Seeds are amazing - look at how they can detect gravity,
for example (to push the shoot up and the roots downwards). And detect diurnal
temperature fluctuations (so they don't germinate when too deep); when I was
studying horticulture many years ago, a fellow student told me about gardeners
digging up an area of lawn for a new garden bed - just where there'd been a
flower bed 100 years earlier - in the Malmsbury Botanic Garden. Lo and behold,
seeds, buried too deep until now, germinated; and staff could see the genus and
species of what plants had been grown there (but as hybrids, so possibly not
the same colour) so long ago. It seems like a little bit of magic, doesn't it?
Fortuitously, I gave the talk - by chance - in mid-April,
right after some good rain, and while the soil is still warm, so I could say
`plants seeds now'! (And keep well watered - the rain hasn't penetrated the
soil that far yet.)
(Planting cold-weather plants and veg (not warm-weather
veg: tomatoes, pumpkins,zucchini), except celery seeds which dislike warm soil
and are better planted in May in Melbourne; probably in April in the highest
reaches of my beloved Dandenong Ranges east of Melbourne, like Olinda and Mt
Dandenong.)
I moved my little hens recently from one veg garden bed
to another, and planted the newly manured bed (thank you girls) with winter
vegetables earlier than usual. The broccoli, kale and leek seedlings are doing so much better than when I pop them
into cold soil - usually in May - which makes them just sit there, sulking, not
growing roots or top growth (and who can blame them?).
Recently I had to pull out a few overgrown veg from a bed
with, among other vegetables, purple carrot seedlings. (As seedling-bought
plants they have suffered a brief lack of water at one point (maybe at the
nursery) and so they bolted, producing pretty umbels of flowers - which I
rather liked. (This is Trachymene,
top, with an umbrella-like head, rather similar to a Queen Anne's Lace carrot flower
umbel, from the same family, Apiaceae or Umbelliferae.) I love
collecting home-grown seeds from old plants, like kale, and these carrots, that
have gone to seed, and if I sow immediately, there's a very high germination
rate.
So I sowed some carrot seed and kept some seeds for
later. I picked some browned seed heads and popped some in a bowl, labelled, in
the house to dry before storing in a cool, dry, dark place; some I scattered in
the veg patch and had a wonderful germination rate (above)with too many seedlings too
close. I need to move some (on a cool day) and thin them, too. I find this
happens with leeks, too.
After my talk a lovely
gentleman said he'd been told to plant seeds twice the depth of their length.
Surely that was in my talk, I thought? But no, when I shortened my talk
(keeping in flower pollinators (like my old echidna in the garden (above), moving bidgee-widgee
(Acaena) seed balls or burrs (which attach itself to
animal fur or feathers aiding dispersal) passively), and when to plant
most seeds (autumn, to give the plant a chance to settle in before our hot, dry
summer (not spring as they say in the ubiquitous English books and magazines),
germination inhibitors, and even NPK ratios for feeding plants), yep, I'd left
that out. Oops. (I'd discussed planting the seeds not too deeply, so that the
energy reserve lasts until the first leaf can unfurl and start receiving light
from the sun to become the energy source. But not: `in general, seeds should be planted at
a depth of two times the width of the seed. For example,
if you have a seed that's about 1mm wide, it should be planted about
2mm deep'. But for poppy seeds, I said, scatter over mulch, press in lightly
and, of course, water in well. Peas and beans - larger seeds - have a larger
energy source, so are planted more deeply.)
It's back in now, in case I
give the talk to another garden club!
And I'm outside planting seeds
myself: yellow peas, broad beans with crimson flowers, black pansies, golden
chard. Just like when I was three, I'm getting so much satisfaction and joy
from the subsequent little seedlings, many from home-collected seed.
Jill Weatherhead is
horticulturist, writer, garden designer and principal at Jill Weatherhead Garden Design
who lives in the Dandenong Ranges east of Melbourne, and works throughout
Victoria. (www.jillweatherheaddesign.com.au)
