Jess Cole
Beech Nuts
Beech Nuts
I look forward to the month of September all year long. Lots of people I love—including my son—were born this month; feasts and merriment abound. Just when the Louisiana summer has almost made me forget what fresh air feels like, an occasional fall breeze springs up to surprise and delight. A profusion of new blooms begins to display, including my two fall favorites, Ironweed (Vernonia gigantea) and Swamp Sunflower (Helianthus angustifolius). More than anything though, as September’s Harvest Moon implies, ‘tis the season for my fall seed collecting to begin. Collecting seed is among the most beloved tasks in my gardening practice, and the sorting, thereof, is my greatest meditation. Even more rewarding: seed sorting has become a family pastime. Whatever the season, my three-year-old and I find seeds to bring home. There have been many days lately when he arrives at his Montessori school with a small bundle of acorns or bald cypress seed in his tiny front shirt pocket to gift his comrades, collected from the yards between our parked truck and the playground gate. Every walk or boat ride we take, in woods or city, I set out with a giant fanny pack strapped around my waist, paper lunch bags tucked inside, ready to receive whatever new seeds we happen across.
Between September and the new year, I collect perennial flower seeds from gardens I have created, and from the natural spaces I am tied to. In recent years, I’ve developed something of an obsession with native tree seed, since encouraging new tree cover has become a matter of utmost importance to me. Currently I’m anticipating the bonanza of beech nuts that is currently maturing on a pair of trees—the only two fruiting out of around forty beeches that surround the cottage I live in. Beech trees are hard to find in local nurseries for various reasons, the most significant being that they don’t fruit very often. They can take up to sixty years to initially produce seed, and even then will only fruit every five to eight years. So, I was excited to discover one of my beech trees laden with beech nuts recently, and over the (harvest) moon, yesterday, when I found a second tree in full fruit. It has been a hard treasure trove to wait for; we visit them every day to see how the harvest is coming along.
Below are guidelines to assist you on your own seed collecting endeavors:
First, We Wait
You want to wait as long as possible to collect your seed. The longer seeds are left to mature on the mother plant before dropping, the more likely they are to be viable. This can be a delicate dance. Oftentimes you would prefer the perennial you’re waiting for not to reseed your garden (particularly when working with aggressive, fast-spreading annuals or perennials). Nor do you want the seed to fall, limiting your chance at collection. One way we “plant people” maximize seed collection is by tying a paper or burlap sack around the seed head, so when the seed falls, it is easily retrieved. In the case of my beech trees—like other tree species that wildlife depend on as a food source, seed collection is basically a waiting game—a dance between waiting for the seed to mature, and harvesting judiciously before wildlife graze it over entirely. I watch the beech masts everyday, anticipating the moment when it feels right to take some for tree planting, and for beech nut toasting—a lovely fall delicacy with a flavor similar to that of the (related) chestnut.
Another simple-but-effective method for harvesting tree fruit is by placing a tarp beneath the tree on windy fall days, to gather what drops naturally.
Stay Local
It’s a good rule of thumb, and particularly when working with native plants, to gather seed from as close as possible to where you plan to plant it. The closer you resow to the seeds’ place of origin, the better the resulting plants’ adaptability is likely to be. Beech nuts taken from northern St. Tammany Parish, where I reside these days, will likely perform better if replanted in the same area, than beech nuts taken from a tree in Virginia or even north Louisiana, since beech trees in St. Tammany parish are already adapted to the sandy, acidic soils and coastal weather patterns hereabouts.
Take a Little, Not a Lot
When harvesting seed from natural spaces, make sure you know the rules. Seed collecting may be restricted or prohibited in certain areas, especially protected parks, tracts administered by the federal Bureau of Land Management, and so on (unless you have a special conservation allowance). Also important: it is every collector’s responsibility to ensure that the plant is healthy, and abundant enough within its habitat to spare a small share. With native plants, it is imperative that enough seed be left to support rejuvenation and wildlife benefit. If you’re in doubt, don’t harvest, and speak to someone with knowledge of the plant’s conservation status within the space. Many say that the harvester should never take more than five to ten percent of the seed at hand. I think that is too generous, and believe that in most cases, less than five percent should be harvested. With your supply secured, ideally you’ll be able to start your own seed bank, achieving germination in your own backyard or greenhouse, and not needing to harvest from the wild again. Remember that seed’s highest and best use is in preserving and renewing our natural spaces, not beautifying our home gardens. Take when Mother Nature has over produced, or to facilitate conservation. Never harvest seed from an isolated colony; it’s imperative to ensure that a plant is thriving beyond that singular space.
Storing Your Seed
Proper seed storage is crucial. Paper, mesh, or burlap help ensure breathability, which is key. You do not want your seed to retain moisture. I harvest in small, brown, paper lunch bags, then store them in a cool, dark place in my home. When I’m sure all moisture has left the seed heads, I strip the seeds and transfer them to glass jars, then into the seed fridge. Once seeds are mature and have dried in a cool, dark space, the fridge makes a good storage solution until you’re ready to sow. Many native plants, mimicking the natural world, prefer a certain length of cold time to achieve maximum germination rates. When sowing seed in a greenhouse rather than into the earth, a fridge provides the solution. If sowing directly into the ground, put the seed out in fall, before Christmas, to make good use of the cold and rain that winter brings.
Read more entries of Jess Cole's column, “Our Sustainable Garden," here.
