In October last year I spent a day sowing seed. It is an activity in which time plays a significant role. Time spent observing a seedpod, the wait until it is ripe enough to gather, but not so ripe it is already cast, flung or taken by wind or bird. Time spent in cleaning and sifting and in understanding how a plant invests in its future. The profligacy of an annual, the weightlessness of those which are designed to carry on the wind or those quite literally catapulted into new territories. Some seed is gathered from the garden, some collected from further afield or gifted with stories attached to provenance. By the time of the actual day of sowing and the lighting of the blue touch paper, you are already invested in a future.

A day of sowing is an intimate day of communing. Each plant with its own story and life cycle. Some short and for which you are safeguarding against loss. Some that are rare and hard to come by. Sometimes you simply want more, and seed is such a fine way to produce more if you have the patience to invest in the wait. A wait that will help to hone how you might use a plant or extend its reach in real time.