My favourite seed is the acorn. I remember sitting under the enormous oak tree at Leamington Primary. It was almost the summer holidays. The whole school was sitting under the shade of the tree. We always had an end of year musical. That year we were singing ‘The Pied Piper of Hamlin’. I remember the coolness of the shade and the brightness beyond it. I remember picking at the patchy grass and feeling the small dents in my legs from sitting on twigs. There may have been the odd acorn, but probably not. We’d collect them in autumn for Mrs Bensemon’s pigs. Each class sang a different part of the story.

To this day I’m fascinated with the story of a village overrun with rats, and a man who stole almost all the children with an enchanted tune, and a cave that opened and closed in a hillside. And the small boy left behind. And oak trees and acorns.

Seeds represent the possibility of new life. A promise of a near future if all the conditions are right. Growing plants from seeds seems like some kind of enchantment. I know from 6th form Biology the main structures of a seed and how they grow. I know from 6th form Horticulture how to make a seed germinate. But I like to forget it all so I can believe in magic.

I have a ridiculous number of seeds. Like books, I can’t stop myself collecting them. Books and seeds have a lot in common.

On Monday morning I came across a dead fur seal on the beach. Today I came across two more. All of them were small, probably pups. It’s the saddest thing I’ve seen in such a long a while. Their beautiful young lives extinguished. At this time of year they’re being weaned off their mothers. They have to look after themselves. Some can’t.

A grave for the first fur seal, made by an unknown person.

Seals turn up regularly in the sea and on the beach. Usually they’re alone, sunbathing, or they’re swimming. I almost fell over one a few months back when I was walking my dog. I thought the seal was a log. It was huge. My stupid dog, who looks like a seal, ran up to it barking, wanting to play. The seal barked back. They barked at each other. I yelled at my dog. My dog should’ve been scared. The seal could’ve wiped her out with a flick of its tail.

There’s something special about the part of the beach where I found the first dead seal. It’s where the shrubs and grasses in Queen Elizabeth Park roll right down to the sand. There are several large logs, sea-worn trees, actually. And in the early morning or evening, when the light is low, these logs look like ancient waka, canoes, that have been pulled up on the sand, past the high tide mark. The occupants of the waka may have stopped to collect, cook and eat some shellfish, in a nearby clearing. These dunes would’ve been covered in trees. The sand dunes are full of middens, piles of shells and charcoal from those meals, hundreds of years ago.

It’s spring in one and a half weeks. This year I want to be ready. Last year I wasn’t. We had a lockdown and then we bought a new house and had to get the old one ready to sell. There’s a lot to do. A lot of seeds to sow and grow. Spring is like a slow moving train carriage, which you have to run to catch and jump on to. Then you have to stay on it for as long as you can, before the train conductor of summer throws you off.

This spring I want to grow poppies, tall marigolds, eryngium, echinops, teasel, achillea, lots of umbellifers, sweet peas, zinnias, heirloom tomatoes, sweetcorn, potatoes, lettuces, courgettes, carrots and beans. I want to grow chillies, rocket and lots of basil and coriander. Maybe some watercress. Definitely some spinach and sorrel. There are lots of other things too, too many to list. I don’t have enough garden beds and containers for everything. Not yet.

Like Sleeping Beauty, seeds need to be woken up. Some are easy and some aren’t.

They all need these 3 things: water (starts germination by making the seed swell and the seed coat to split), oxygen (causes a chemical reaction allowing the seed to get energy to grow) and temperature (seeds will only grow within a specific temperature range). Getting the temperature right is where I often go wrong.

I took part in the ‘Secret Santa Seed Swap’ for NZ gardeners on instagram. It was invented by Claire and Sarah. Every year, at the end of winter, they organise and manage it. My generous and thoughtful seed swap buddy sent me the seeds and other gifts in the photo above. They arrived this week.

Yesterday, I planted the dahlias (which have been in my seed-swap-buddy’s family for many years) and the Christmas lily. I used the dibber and label set yesterday too, when I transplanted radicchio seedlings; planted eryngium, marigold and courgette seeds.

I needed some inspiration this week after a week in bed thanks to Covid. I did what lots of people did. I got straight back into life the day I left isolation: running, work and gardening. And then I hit a wall. My wall was breathing. Breathlessness. 3 weeks after getting Covid and my breathing still isn’t right. Don’t underestimate this virus.

And so, for companionship and inspiration I sought out these two great gardeners. Unfortunately, the same dog that tried to play with a seal also tried to play with my book.

This is the second exciting delivery this week.

Two boxes of seed potatoes arrived in the post. Yesterday I sorted them out into boxes for chitting. This speeds up their growth. I’m growing 6 different varieties. 5 heirloom ones and Jersey bennes.

There have been all sorts of wonderful surprises in the garden this week. Here are some of them.

My tree of the week is the pōhutukawa tree. I have 6 growing in my front garden. The biggest of them is outside my bedroom window. The fantails, especially, love flitting about its branches and nibbling at bugs in the bark. There are fresh green leaves growing at the branch tips. Here’s my neighbour’s one flowering in December last year. Something to look forward to.

See you next Sunday.