Biromantic
Mar. 25th, 2022 10:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
greenstormSo here's the thing: as a dryad I have loving feelings towards both people and plants. The word love is a little weird, it contains some stuff that doesn't apply like sex, so obviously this looks different with people and with plants but floaty happy feelings and wanting to poke and learn more and wanting to entwine my life forward into the future and wanting to stay close all exist, if in different form.
I generally have a relationship with the plants I come into contact with, much like you have a relationship with the people you come into contact with. Anything from "oh yeah, that's what's-his-name from London" to "this is my lifelong living partner" and everything in-between. For me, part of living in the same landscape for a long time is the ability to continue my relationships with plants. When people ask me why I moved up here I often say "I wanted to eat fruit off a tree I planted" and that's one kind of relationship for sure, with an individual. Generational relationship with an annual plant is another kind.
A little while ago I wrote this:
"Gaspe corn. I'm having so many feelings right now, it's hard to write. Gaspe is a tiny corn, the plant grows knee-high if that. The cobs are as long as your shortest finger. It doesn't produce a lot of corn per acre, if a full acre has ever been planted in the last century.
It was bred by the Mi'kmaq people of what we call the Gaspe peninsula. It's the northernmost thrust of this amazing array of forms of corn that co-evolved in the Americas in a supportive dance between humans and an unremarkable-looking grass. It's the physical form of thousands of years of humans all united in giving labour and thought and recirculation sustenance.
There's probably enough of the genetics left that it can survive. I can hold it in my hands. I can put it in the soil. It's given me more seed already; I've sought out a wider genetic base so it can continue to do so. I can give these seeds to other people so it's more likely to live. I can be a link in that chain.
But more than that I can hold it, and grow it, and that's very good."
I was handling more than the gaspe seed this evening though. I was handling Magic Manna and Cascade Ruby-Gold, which were bred by Carol Deppe for the pacific northwest as a staple crop out of I think Painted Mountain and something? and the magic manna was some from Adaptive Seeds and some saved from last year's Adaptive and Snake River seed planting, which looked quite different vidually from the original seed. I was handling Painted Mountain itself, four different acessions of it: from Salt Spring seeds, from Annapolis seeds, from Sweet Rock farm, and from Glorious Organics. I was handling the flashy new Atomic Orange sold through Baker Creek. I was handling Adaptive Seeds' Mandan Lavender Parching and Great Lakes Staple Seeds' New York Red Flint. I was handling "American Indian Flour Corn" and Saskatoon White. And I was handling Morden.
Morden corn.
John Sherck thinks it's maybe the earliest corn in the world. It's one of the loneliest. Corn is a group entity; it gets lonely; it needs some diversity of genetics supported by a large population or it succumbs to inbreeding depression pretty easily. They say you should generally have a population of at the very least 200 corn plants to save seed from, or else bring in corn friends every couple years. Corn reaches out over long distances to mingle with other corn, I think the safe distance to prevent pollination is something like a mile? But for a corn to fully retain its character it can't mingle with other types, so it needs a big enough group of almost-similar, same-variety individuals to maintain itself.
So far as I can tell all existing Morden corn descends from 28 individuals. That's not enough. It's not enough diversity for it to be happy; it's planted and doesn't quite want to fill out its ears, its kernels are small, it doesn't leap vigorously out of the ground. All grasses are group entities in some way or another and they do best in groups. It takes the heart out of them to be lonely. Morden's heart is heavy, but it's alive.
Now Morden is in my possession. Its genetics are fragmented. Its story and its people are lost. Most seeds come with some responsibility but this one is bigger than most. What do I do? Do I try to preserve it as it is, growing out every seed into a plant and saving as large a number of seeds as I can to avoid any more diversity slipping away, trying to trap it in time? Do I give it a very different friend, maybe gaspe, maybe something colourful, a new infusion of genetics that brings it back to life but indelibly shifts its original character? Even with years of selection it would never be the same. I want it to continue. I want it to be neither lonely nor eradicated.
And I want it not to be so lost. I want whatever vibrant population it came from to continue to exist, to not be missing. I want it to be lively and gregarious as it moves into the future, to leap out of the ground and fill fields with some farmer's heart's green delight. It was once that way and maybe it can't ever be again; maybe not dying, but certainly changed unalterably and certainly surviving in some way.
All that is in my hand. It's such a weight. It's so many feelings. My understanding of masculinity is that it's supposed to be linked with this urge to protect, and femininity with this urge to nurture, or something. Those genders are supposed to complete each other in those roles. I hold these seeds in my hand, so small and so few, and I want to protect them against anything that may ever harm them. I want to spend sleepless nights running out with a tarp against a hailstorm. I want to stir them into life and warm them and feed them and gently ease away the weeds that threaten to take their space. These two corns, Morden and Gaspe, they reach into me and draw me into roles that fit me so comfortably. I want to live with them, and I want them to live.
Let's see what we can do to make this happen.
I generally have a relationship with the plants I come into contact with, much like you have a relationship with the people you come into contact with. Anything from "oh yeah, that's what's-his-name from London" to "this is my lifelong living partner" and everything in-between. For me, part of living in the same landscape for a long time is the ability to continue my relationships with plants. When people ask me why I moved up here I often say "I wanted to eat fruit off a tree I planted" and that's one kind of relationship for sure, with an individual. Generational relationship with an annual plant is another kind.
A little while ago I wrote this:
"Gaspe corn. I'm having so many feelings right now, it's hard to write. Gaspe is a tiny corn, the plant grows knee-high if that. The cobs are as long as your shortest finger. It doesn't produce a lot of corn per acre, if a full acre has ever been planted in the last century.
It was bred by the Mi'kmaq people of what we call the Gaspe peninsula. It's the northernmost thrust of this amazing array of forms of corn that co-evolved in the Americas in a supportive dance between humans and an unremarkable-looking grass. It's the physical form of thousands of years of humans all united in giving labour and thought and recirculation sustenance.
There's probably enough of the genetics left that it can survive. I can hold it in my hands. I can put it in the soil. It's given me more seed already; I've sought out a wider genetic base so it can continue to do so. I can give these seeds to other people so it's more likely to live. I can be a link in that chain.
But more than that I can hold it, and grow it, and that's very good."
I was handling more than the gaspe seed this evening though. I was handling Magic Manna and Cascade Ruby-Gold, which were bred by Carol Deppe for the pacific northwest as a staple crop out of I think Painted Mountain and something? and the magic manna was some from Adaptive Seeds and some saved from last year's Adaptive and Snake River seed planting, which looked quite different vidually from the original seed. I was handling Painted Mountain itself, four different acessions of it: from Salt Spring seeds, from Annapolis seeds, from Sweet Rock farm, and from Glorious Organics. I was handling the flashy new Atomic Orange sold through Baker Creek. I was handling Adaptive Seeds' Mandan Lavender Parching and Great Lakes Staple Seeds' New York Red Flint. I was handling "American Indian Flour Corn" and Saskatoon White. And I was handling Morden.
Morden corn.
John Sherck thinks it's maybe the earliest corn in the world. It's one of the loneliest. Corn is a group entity; it gets lonely; it needs some diversity of genetics supported by a large population or it succumbs to inbreeding depression pretty easily. They say you should generally have a population of at the very least 200 corn plants to save seed from, or else bring in corn friends every couple years. Corn reaches out over long distances to mingle with other corn, I think the safe distance to prevent pollination is something like a mile? But for a corn to fully retain its character it can't mingle with other types, so it needs a big enough group of almost-similar, same-variety individuals to maintain itself.
So far as I can tell all existing Morden corn descends from 28 individuals. That's not enough. It's not enough diversity for it to be happy; it's planted and doesn't quite want to fill out its ears, its kernels are small, it doesn't leap vigorously out of the ground. All grasses are group entities in some way or another and they do best in groups. It takes the heart out of them to be lonely. Morden's heart is heavy, but it's alive.
Now Morden is in my possession. Its genetics are fragmented. Its story and its people are lost. Most seeds come with some responsibility but this one is bigger than most. What do I do? Do I try to preserve it as it is, growing out every seed into a plant and saving as large a number of seeds as I can to avoid any more diversity slipping away, trying to trap it in time? Do I give it a very different friend, maybe gaspe, maybe something colourful, a new infusion of genetics that brings it back to life but indelibly shifts its original character? Even with years of selection it would never be the same. I want it to continue. I want it to be neither lonely nor eradicated.
And I want it not to be so lost. I want whatever vibrant population it came from to continue to exist, to not be missing. I want it to be lively and gregarious as it moves into the future, to leap out of the ground and fill fields with some farmer's heart's green delight. It was once that way and maybe it can't ever be again; maybe not dying, but certainly changed unalterably and certainly surviving in some way.
All that is in my hand. It's such a weight. It's so many feelings. My understanding of masculinity is that it's supposed to be linked with this urge to protect, and femininity with this urge to nurture, or something. Those genders are supposed to complete each other in those roles. I hold these seeds in my hand, so small and so few, and I want to protect them against anything that may ever harm them. I want to spend sleepless nights running out with a tarp against a hailstorm. I want to stir them into life and warm them and feed them and gently ease away the weeds that threaten to take their space. These two corns, Morden and Gaspe, they reach into me and draw me into roles that fit me so comfortably. I want to live with them, and I want them to live.
Let's see what we can do to make this happen.
no subject
Date: 2022-03-27 01:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-03-27 06:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-03-27 07:18 pm (UTC)Getting S. divinorum to flower is apparently pretty straightforward, just annoying: It needs 12 hours of dark throughout the *entire* flowering and seedset period, and will tolerate very little light pollution. I'd have to build a little darkroom to get it to set seed! It then of course has to be hand-pollinated, and the seedset and viability is not great. (Not terrible, just... not great.)
I haven't been able to determine if living specimens of S. venulosa even exist outside of Colombia at the moment.
I've found a pretty good article on crossing sages -- exactly where (and when) the stigma is receptive, some tricks like using mentor pollen.
I don't know if I'll ever spend the time and energy to do all this, but I *want* to so much... I should probably stick to my citrus-crossing project, though.
no subject
Date: 2022-03-27 07:32 pm (UTC)There's nothing that says you can't do one part of the project (say flowering s divinorum) regularly, then add more pieces (like hand pollination, or finding venulosa) later on, and by then you'll be well practiced at the parts you have already done.
I can't believe I'm gonna live somwhere I can grow (a couple) citrus.
no subject
Date: 2022-03-28 01:02 am (UTC)My big concern there is that I'm *really* bad at keeping to a routine. But... I bet I could do it if the plant was next to my desk and I uncovered it in the late morning each day. As long as it doesn't pay attention to things like rate of change of night length, I guess it wouldn't matter if I sometimes didn't uncover it until afternoon. Re-covering it would just be part of my bedtime routine.
And yeah, I was just planning on growing divinorum for a while first, learning how to take care of it and propagate it. I actually did have a plant for some months, but then I had a plantsitter who inadvertantly drowned it. :-( I'll probably get another one at some point, but there aren't that many people who are selling, so it could be a while.
I think my goal with the citrus is just first going to be getting fruit (a reward in and of itself) and then start trying to make novel crosses. Blood orange and kumquat would be cool! I hear the red color is recessive, so it would take a few generations to get a "bloodquat" or whatever, but I'm sure it would be interesting along the way -- and theoretically, I'd be getting *some* kind of interesting fruit no matter what.
no subject
Date: 2022-03-30 04:40 pm (UTC)I volunteer myself as F2+ additional seed grower-outer if you ever get to that project :)