This growing season I’ve become obsessed with collecting seeds. I don’t know when it happened, but all of a sudden all I can think about when I see a dried up flowerhead is that it’s full of growing potential for next year.
It feels like such a life hack. I’ve grown flowers from seeds I bought for at least £3 per packet, and now I can use the flowers I’ve grown to never have to pay for those seeds again. I have an unlimited, lifetime supply of these flowers, provided the seeds germinate next year. It gives you a sort of ownership over the things you’ve grown, when you grow things from seeds you’ve grown and collected yourself, it gives you the satisfaction of knowing you were involved in the whole process. It’s not just that the seed producer provided good seeds and I planted them in the ground and nature worked its magic, *I* picked the seeds, I planted those seeds… and then nature worked its magic with a little extra help from me.
Okay, maybe the original seed producer will always be the one to thank, but still – it makes me feel good. I feel like a little scientist when I’m doing it. I voyage out into the garden, scissors and bowl in hand, and begin investigating potential seed-heads. Once spotted, I collect my samples and rush back inside with them to see the magic unfold. Carefully pulling back the layers of the flower, appreciating the awe-striking beauty up close for the first time and taking in all its newly discovered details, I gently extract the seed. Sometimes it requires rubbing the outer shell between my fingers until a little seed is revealed, and sometimes they are already right out there in the open for anyone to pick. Then I separate each part of the flower into individual piles or dishes, dreaming up all sorts of projects I could use the other bits for – I don’t want to waste any part of what nature has worked so hard all season to produce.
I picture the petals being confetti, or being steeped to make tea, mixed with water to make natural paints, or preserved in beautiful decorative sheets of paper – speckled with the natural colourful details.
The allium seeds in particular bring me so much joy. The seeds are located at the tip of the little flowers which make up the big bobble of the main flowerhead. Once dried, the individual flowers can be pulled out in clumps to form the cutest little bouquets, something I picture a fairy or a frog would carry in their hands on their wedding day. The fragile little flowers hold so much magical potential for me. They could be used as mini floral displays, to adorn handmade cards, printed with to make interesting imprints and patterns… the list goes on and on. Is it just another excuse for me to hoard more random items in my house? Yes, but I’m not mad about it. I mean, how could anyone be mad about having an abundance of miniature bouquets at their disposal?
Then comes the fun part – the packaging of the seeds. Hand-drawn lettering and flower outlines are carved into lino and printed in bright and happy colours on soft textured off-white paper.
The seeds are packaged up in small reused/recycled plastic sleeves, taped up and gently placed within the printed seed packets, forming a plump cushion. The packets are secured by being hand-sewn up with a needle and matching coloured thread.
It’s a long drawn out process which could definitely be made more streamlined and less aesthetically pleasing to speed things up, but it’s a labour of love and I enjoy every step of it. There’s a certain craftsmanship to it. The seed packet is dated and gifted to anybody who would like to start their own flower growing cycle next spring.
It’s a celebration of the lifecycle of nature and has made me pay so much more attention to my garden and all the beauty and potential it holds. I hope each year that I can continue this tradition, and encourage others to do so too.
catdidthis 
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