Traces of trades and seed dissemination.

This page will first be updated with traces of seeds dispersed across 2024. If you’d like to contribute your reflection please see this page. (Traces of trades and exchanges from previous years will be updated here shortly; for now, you can look back on project engagement on instagram).

The prompt (new for 2024):

In exchange for these seeds you are asked to send a response in return: a story, image or reflection (etc), of the seeds after you have planted them. Please contribute your reflection on this page.

Traces of 2024:

Hannah – Edmonton/Treaty 6
Focus on Joy bouquet #1: Anise Hyssop, Wild flower mix, Oat Grass; Zinnia (Summer 2024)
As I planted the seeds, I wished them well. I wanted the earth to welcome them back, to reclaim them and nurture them. I was intentional in where I placed them and diligently watered the area and removed competing plants to ensure they had the best chance of flourishing. As I eagerly awaited their arrival, I was surprised at how much the surrounding insects and critters liked the baby plants. This is the first year we have had so many hungry little souls in our garden. Luckily a few survived and I have now had the pleasure of admiring two baby zinnia plants, two bundles of oat grass, and a cluster of anise hyssop.

The oat grass is doing best of all, and I’ve been very proud of it’s growth. The conditions of the soil it was placed in could have been improved. Yet it pushes upwards and sways happily in the breeze. It’s home is near two dogwood bushes, native to the land it is situated on. On the breeze comes the sweet smell of catnip, planted nearby. One bundle of grass was eaten by an animal or insect, I’m not sure which, but it has disappeared entirely. The other two continue to grow daily.

The zinnia has grown to about 20 cm tall despite several animal and human challenges. It was placed in an area where we would easily be able to see the flowers when they came, however that also meant the area was easily accessible to tiny toes eager to help tend to the garden. Two of the seeds didn’t germinate, but we are hopeful the remaining two might flower before the cold settles in.

Surprisingly, none of the wildflowers germinated, but we are happy to see the bees have been busily buzzing around our previously established wildflower patch.

Lastly, the anise hyssop has come up spectacularly, despite not yet flowering. The leaves are full and abundant, nestled beside sweet basil and spinach.

This experience has instilled in me a great sense of connection with the land we live on, inspiration to reflect, and inspiration to share the seeds we grow and sow. Thank you.

Lindsay – Edmonton/Treaty 6
Poppies and Black-Eyed Susans (summer 2024)
I scattered the seeds in my newer flower bed that had room for more plants. In a few weeks, there were poppy sprouts all bunched together downslope from where I tossed them. They are a think mass of vegetation, and just starting to flower. The Black-eyed Susans either didn’t like their new home or are waiting dormant for the next growing season. Or maybe became food for birds.

Qi Zhang – Edmonton/Treaty 6
Lettuce seeds (summer 2024).
I planted the seeds, and they successfully germinated, however, they gradually died. I’m feel terrible about it….I’m really bad at this……

LDeV – Berkeley, CA – Ohlone Territory
Tomato seeds (summer 2024).
I received a number of packets and planted them in starter containers, but very few came up. The only ones that really were viable were labelled “mystery tomato seed” and they seem to be doing very well.
I made little labels when I first planted them but they were soon washed out or lost. Consequently, as volunteer tomatoes show up all over my yard in the summer, I am now not sure which ones were actually from the ‘mystery tomato’ seed packets, and which are simply a result of that other mysterious thing in nature where seeds appear from humans, squirrels and birds and take root.
I live in a climate where many plants re-seed themselves but some appear in areas of the garden where I have to assume the seed could only have been carried by birds or squirrels. This is especially true with tomatoes, a plant native to the Americas.
Every summer I find some of these plants nestled near the steps of my studio, a tiny spot where I never either water or plant. For the first time this year, I found a spare little tomato plant right under my garden hose, another in a cactus garden and most recently one is peeking out from beneath some squash leaves struggling for sun. I tend to favor these plants because they come as gifts. They also remind me that while California is a very dry climate, tomato’s ability to so easily propagate is a testament to how little water they actually need.