Last weekend, while transferring a packet of bird seed from its rather flimsy plastic pack into a more manageable kitchen container, I also managed to pour a significant amount of the seed onto the kitchen bench . . . and then, in a (futile) attempt to stem the flow, threw a good deal more of it onto the floor. ‘Rats!’ (or words to that effect.) As I began the (seemingly endless) task of cleaning it all up (I am still finding odd seeds around the place nearly a week later) I was also forced to notice how many different varieties of seeds there were just in that one small packet . . .
Anyone who knows me knows that I am not a great gardener. I know what works in my own garden (succulents) and I have a lot of them, but I still don’t know what any of the different varieties are called. I tend to refer to them simply as the ‘spiky one’ or the ‘furry one’ or ‘the triffid’ . . . and I am okay with that. I don’t feel the need to learn all their scientific names. But while pottering around my garden earlier this week (and after the seed explosion in my kitchen) it occurred to me that I had never seen a succulent seed. At least I don’t think I have. I have always purchased succulents as whole plants and propagated them (look at me—using a gardening term!) by using the babies they throw out.
So I had a look on-line to see what succulent seeds looks like and . . . well, they pretty much look like a lot of other seeds . . . which is fascinating in itself considering the variety of plants these small insignificant-looking things grow in to.
Then I started to wonder just exactly how many varieties of plants (and therefore seeds) there are in the world—and the answer, my friends (without being too precise) is—LOTS!! Lots and lots and lots. And, I am happy to say, I also discovered there are plenty of people out there working very hard to see that this remains the case.
It seems there are a number of seed banks around the world dedicated to the storage and preservation of the world’s seeds. The largest of these is the Svalbard Global Seed Vault in Norway. This vault (also labelled the ‘doomsday vault’) holds upwards of 850,000 seeds from thousands of varieties of plants, all stored at a constant temperature of -18 degrees Celsius. The ‘disaster proof’ vault was deliberately built in its remote location, high up a mountain, ‘to survive rising sea levels, power outages and other calamaties that could affect the seeds’ (The Crop Trust) and almost every country has deposited seeds there.
(Unfortunately, this year this seemingly impregnable vault appeared more fallible than originally thought. Extraordinarily warm temperatures during the winter (no such thing as global warming huh?) sent meltwater rushing into the entrance tunnel. The water then froze within that tunnel and had to be manually hacked out. Luckily, the seed vault itself was not breached and the seeds remained safe. This time.)
I wonder if there are any succulent seeds being held in Svalbard? I know this vault and others like it are primarily concerned with preserving those seeds which might keep the world fed (corn, wheat, rice, vegetables, etc) should something cataclysmic befall us rather than the tiny treasures from our own little patches of dirt, but I’d like to think they still had room for a few tiny succulent seeds to be safely tucked away. And daisies—I like daisies. And roses. And geraniums . . . and love-in-a-mist . . . and bird-of-paradise . . .
But, just in case no-one in Svalbard has given much thought to preserving these particular lovelies, I guess there is nothing to stop any of us from creating our own personal seed vaults and filling them full of our particular favourites is there? Perhaps people are already doing that, and I (as usual) am way behind the times. At any rate I am thinking about it now. I seem suddenly overcome with an urge to go outside and search for succulent seeds!
And here’s a thought. I could also add a few of those random seeds I am still finding around my kitchen floor. I have no idea what any of those seeds are but that could be part of the fun. Who knows what manner of gorgeousness any of those tiny things might one day produce . . .