‘This unrelenting loss of diversity requires bold action, and the implausible possibilities of today will soon become politically and existentially unavoidable.’ Raquel Ajates
I was having a conversation with a fellow farmer the other day about how we locate water. They were hoping to install a borehole on their farm, and they shared, with some shock, that the company doing the investigations still use a water diviner to locate the best place to drill. ‘We don’t seem to have anything better’. It made me pause, and consider what might be considered ‘better’? A more modern, scientific approach, that utilises technology and comes with a high price point? I wondered if this would be deemed as ‘better’? Is divining not also a form of technology? Just older, and perhaps one that requires a level of trust, and ‘knowing’? Because we cannot scientifically explain it, there seems no logic to it, and yet here we are, in many cases, accepting it – and trusting it enough to invest large amounts of money in drilling wells based on the outcome of the diving rod.
Our relationship with seed was once based on this deep level of trust. This interaction made me contemplate at what point we misplaced this trust, at what point was this knowing and inexplicable understanding lost?
As a culture, we’ve moved away from seed work being a normal part of farm life. We outsourced responsibility for our seed to the ‘experts’ as modern plant breeding methods led to the development of something ‘better’. Much seed is now principally owned and controlled by a handful of large corporations, and this often includes the breeding process. Modern plant breeding has undoubtedly provided us with ways of overcoming some serious pest and disease, and has dramatically increased crop yields, but most of these benefits occur within the very specific context of industrial agriculture: high input, large scale food production that utilises technology to maximise yields and favours intensive farming practices. And in this current proprietary system of automation & standardisation, seeds have been severed from their natural environment.
Farmer led plant breeding and seed stewardship offers a highly dynamic strategy to adapt crops to both biotic and abiotic stresses. But as a farming community in the UK, there seems to be a deep mistrust of our own skills as seed stewards. A common response from fellow growers regarding seed is ‘to leave it to the experts’. But who is more of an expert on your land than you? As farmers and growers we are in intimate relationship with these crops day in day out and are some of the best placed people to steward and guide them in a direction that is most relevant to us. I am not dismissing ex-situ plant breeding, it is vital work and we need all of the tools in our toolbox to tackle the challenges we currently face. But again it comes back to context. In our current system, it has become further and further removed from the relationships of reciprocity that might offer true resilience.
I have been growing and saving seed for several years now, and each season I am surprised, delighted and astounded by the process. I am not a scientist, so I don’t have any peer reviewed research or robust data sets to share to prove why farmer led plant breeding is invaluable. But like the diving rod, the process of seed saving asks us, in a way, to trust in something beyond our own comprehension.
As I have shared before, something I love about seed work is that it requires us to reconnect with plants on a basic level, to slow down and really observe them with open curiosity. Among the crops we are growing this year at East Neuk Market Garden (ENMG), there are several that are now in year two, three or four even, of being saved on the farm or by others locally. While carefully potting up the tomato seedlings earlier this spring, I noticed a dramatic difference in hairiness between the seedlings of farm-saved seed to those that had been bought in. Had this trait inadvertently been selected for? This is totally anecdotal of course, and perhaps requires us to lean into the idea that plants know what they are doing, but to my mind these plants had grown themselves a warm jacket against the cold springs here - learning from their previous generations experiences and adapting accordingly. These seedlings also germinated faster, and were more vigorous than many of the other cultivars sown at the same time, something that is a common observation amongst seed savers everywhere.
Resilience is something that seems to go hand in hand with on farm seed stewardship. Crops become better adapted to their local environment and soil as they get to know their surroundings. And resilience can also be found in the less rigid breeding process and broader gene pool that tends to emerge through this process. Alongside the tomatoes at ENMG, we’re also growing two diverse squash flocks supported by the Going to Seed Farmer Programme. This programme supports commercial farmers wanting to explore the possibilities of evolutionary populations and the longer term benefits that might come from genetically diverse crops. It is innovative programmes like this that are making it possible for farmers to take the leap of faith required to intentionally start stewarding their own seed.
I was very fortunate to have some squash seed gifted to me by fellow grower and friend, Jayne Arnold from Oxton Organics, to grow in this trial. Jayne created this flock several years ago by mixing together some of her favourite varieties of winter squash and allowing them to cross pollinate. She has been saving seed from what survived and thrived since, only keeping seed from the tastiest fruit. Last year Oxton Organics was one of the few market gardens I know of in the UK that had a successful and bountiful squash harvest. Again, anecdotal, but it seems to me that perhaps these plants, diverse in their gene pool and grown in Oxtons soil for several years, were more resilient to the challenges of the season. Another unintended but wonderful outcome of this project has been the community it has created. As a commercial veg box scheme, Jayne didn’t have the luxury of keeping all her squash harvest for seed. So, she took her customers on this journey with her, asking them to send back seed from any of the squash they thought were particularly delicious. Through this participatory process, her customers are now perhaps that little bit more invested in where their food comes from, for they have become part of its story. And this brings resilience in an altogether different way. I’ll be growing this flock at ENMG this season, seeing how it fairs in a new location with the intention of adapting it to the needs of both the environment and community here in the East Neuk of Fife.
Alongside the squash and tomatoes, we are stewarding many other seed crops at East Neuk Market Garden this season. Some are being grown on contract for seed companies, others for ourselves and for sharing. We’re also carrying out several variety trials to see what might grow well, or adapt to growing well, on this agroecological farm in coastal Fife. All of this is somehow slotted into the already hectic schedule of a busy market garden – growing vegetables for 160 CSA shares alongside supplying multiple shops, restaurants and cafes in the area. What I am trying to convey is that this isn’t easy, it’s all extra work. And in the current economical landscape it is asking a lot of farmers to even contemplate adding to their already impossible workloads. But I fundamentally believe that the benefit of stewarding our own seed can be exponential. I.e, it is worth it.
I appreciate that these are just stories that I have shared: anecdotal and without scientific evidence to back them up. But stories can be powerful instigators for change. They open the door to a liminal space, a transitional zone that presents a new way of being. And a new way of being is what is needed, because it occurs to me that the current system is not working: it is not nourishing us or the planet.
In the seemingly insignificant act of growing some seed, we could all be contributing to transformational change. Seed stewardship disrupts the cycle of ownership and contributes to increased diversity and resilience - taking a small but mighty step towards food sovereignty.