Seed Catalogue - March 14 2023

 

Seed Catalogue

March 14 2023

The small packet of seeds.

A simple paper pouch

so featherlight

it seems too insubstantial

to contain so much.

On the full-colour cover

luscious pictures

of the promised ornamental   —

snow drop, nasturtium, viola;

creeping phlox,

forget-me-not,

deciduous magnolia.

Or, for the self-sufficient gardener

mouth-watering depictions

of carrot, kale, chard,

squash

eggplant

garlic.

Nothing exotic,

just everyday flowers

and salad greens.

There is no rush, with seeds,

they are infinitely patient.

And their secrets

are safely protected,

the hard impervious husk

containing all that's needed

for sustenance

and life.

Yet so small

you can cup an entire season

in a single palm;

for mere pocket change

a handful

of minor miracles.

Which is a word

taken far too lightly

in casual conversation.

Yet the humble seed?

Never miraculous;

just taken for granted,

delivered by mail

and bought for cheap.

So if there is a God

she is resting now;

the 7th day behind her

and another spring awaits.

The season of birth,

resurrecting

its fertile black soil

beneath what remains

of the grim grey snow.

That has thawed and refrozen

into a hard crusty layer

that might seem eternal,

but will go

with just the first few days

of warmth.

When my eyes passed over the words “seed catalogue”, I thought what is a season of great excitement and expectation for gardeners completely escapes me. I have little interest. Not to mention how intimidated I am by the arcane knowledge it takes.

But what also struck me is how fabulous the humble seed is. I don't believe in miracles. I'm a diehard rationalist/materialist/atheist. I only use “miracle” ironically. But if anything merits the word, it would be the seed. And so — from someone with the opposite of a green thumb — an encomium to seeds.