Seed Savers-Treasure

by Sandra Smith

  “Oh,” Lily said, “remember what Dante found?”

  Ana looked at the children, her eyebrows raised in question.

  “Well,” Clare hesitated, “I’m not sure that was real.”

  “Yeah,” cried Dante, “tell her, tell her: I found a picture of fruit—on the Juice box!”

  Clare smiled apologetically at Ana. “On the Juice box, there was this picture of trees and on the trees were these colored circles . . . Dante thought it looked like fruit.”

  Ana nodded, her eyes glistening. “Yes,” she said, “Dante is right. Those are fruit.”

  “Yes!” Dante shouted.

  “So,” Clare ventured, “last time you were about to explain the connection between plants and food.”

  Ana smiled, nodding. “Oh yes,” she answered. “A very important point, to be sure.” She picked up the Bible and handed it to Lily. “Your turn, dear. Genesis 1: 29, please.”

  Lily opened the floppy book. Clare helped her locate the verse.

  “Then God said, ‘I give you every seed-bearing plant on the face of the whole earth and every tree that has fruit with seed in it. They will be yours for food.’”

  A moment of silence followed the reading.

  “I don’t get it,” Clare finally said. “What is ours for food? The seeds?”

  “Can you read it again, please, Lily?” Ana instructed.

  Lily read again, “Then God said, ‘I give you every seed-bearing plant on the face of the whole earth and every tree that has fruit with seed in it. They will be yours for food.’” Lily paused, “It sounds like you can eat the plants and the fruits from the trees.”

  “Bingo!” Ana said.

  Dante laughed. “People can’t eat plants.”

  “How can you eat a plant?” asked Lily.

  “Aren’t they poisonous?” said Clare.

  “Maybe we should read a little more. Lily, pass the Bible to Clare. Clare, Genesis 2:8.”

  “Now the Lord God had planted a garden in the east, in Eden; and there he put the man he had formed. And the Lord God made all kinds of trees grow out of the ground—trees that were pleasing to the eye and good for food—”

  “That’s good,” Ana said. “Stop there.”

  “Wow,” said Dante, “if the trees are good for food, the fruit must be okay to eat.”

  “Okay, okay,” Clare said, “but that doesn’t say the plants are good for food.”

  “Dear, the plants are good for food—but it’s not the way you’re thinking—just wait, I’ll teach you.”

  Lily had taken the Bible back and was quietly rereading the last verse.

  “Anything the matter, Lily?” Ana asked.

  The girl looked up. “It says here that the Lord God planted a garden? It sounds like my last name.”

  “Oh yeah, I noticed that, too,” said Clare. “And I’ve seen that word on the Monitor.”

  Dante was barely listening now. On the paper in front of him he had drawn tree after tree, each bearing round fruits of various colors. In the sky was a big face.

  Ana gazed at Lily. “Lily Gardener, what a marvelous name. ‘Lily’—a most beautiful and fragrant flower. And ‘Gardener’—one who tends, or takes care of a garden. A garden,” she said, “is a place where plants and trees are planted and cared for. It can be a flower garden or a vegetable garden. A place of beauty and rest, or a simple plot for food-bearing plants. A garden is intentional,” she said with finality.

  “Is it sort of like a park or a botanical reserve?” asked Clare.

  “Yes. The botanical reserves are what we have left. I’m not sure when the word ‘garden’ fell out of favor. I think it was around the time seed saving was outlawed. It was better for the corporations, agribusiness, those who wanted society to forget the concept of growing food by and for oneself. They took away our means to do it, made laws forbidding it, and changed the language to erase our memory of it.”

  The children were silent. Then the girls began scribbling furiously in their notebooks, writing down everything Ana had told them.

  Dante simply began adding letters across the sky of his picture. G-A-R-D-E-N right between the tops of the fruit trees and God’s face.

  8

  BURIED TREASURE

  After the girls wrote down an explanation of “garden” and that plants were food, they begged Ana to tell them more about what it meant to grow a food plant.

  “I’ve been thinking about this,” Ana answered. “It’s hard to know where to start.”

  “Start at the beginning!” Dante said.

  “Or perhaps the ending, and work back,” Ana teased.

  “No, please, the beginning,” Lily begged.

  “Very well, then.” Ana reached for the Bible.

  The children sighed. Clare couldn’t help it. Though she’d been raised to show respect for adults and went to church most every Sunday, she was baffled as to why the only book Ana brought was a Bible.

  “Ana, I think reading about plants in the Bible is great.” Clare hesitated. “But we were kind of hoping you had some old books.” She lowered her voice, “Books about plants and fruits and seeds. Books with big pictures.”

  Dante nodded eagerly.

  “Well now,” Ana said, letting go of the Bible. “Sounds to me like you need to hear some of the ending after all.”

  The kids scrunched up their faces.

  Ana’s voice was low. “There certainly were such books—are still. But they aren’t easy to find. The large food lobby, with the government’s backing, has taken them out of circulation. If I had these books, do you think it would be wise for me to tote them all over here and show them to you? Not only could I lose the books and be charged large fines, if GRIM found out I was teaching agriculture to children, I could be imprisoned.”

  The children’s eyes grew wide.

  “If, on the other hand, a little old lady like me carries a Bible in and out of church, nobody is suspicious.” She turned to Clare. “Does that answer your question?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m sorry, Ana. I’m just so curious to find out more. Ever since you started bringing me the seeds and hinting about making food, I’ve wanted to know everything.”

  “Is fruit as pretty as on the juice box?” Dante asked.

  Ana smiled, her face erupting in wrinkles. “In fact, Dante, it’s even better.”

  “Wow.”

  Ana sighed. “Well, if you must know everything all at once, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to tell you quickly, and we can do the actual studying and note-taking later. We haven’t much time left today. Remind me what you already know.”

  The children took turns spewing out bits of knowledge, but like an incomplete jigsaw puzzle, many pieces were missing. What they knew was this: Seeds could turn into food. Seeds came from fruit, and fruit came from plants (though they had never actually seen fruit on a plant). Plants could somehow be eaten (though they had never eaten a plant, nor had they ever known anyone who had eaten a plant). Food came from Stores or Trucks, was usually square or round, came in a few colors, and followed the basic groups of Proteins, Carbos, Vitees, Sweeties, and Snacks.

  “And so you want to know how those seeds I gave you turn into a Sweetie, or a Protein, or a Vitee?”

  “Yes!”

  “Ana,” Dante said, “I think I know. I saw it on a cartoon once. You put the seed in a dish and add water. Pop!” he said, his hands expanding.

  The girls looked hopefully at Ana.

  “Good guess,” she said. “But it’s not quite that easy. In fact, it’s rather hard work. But not unenjoyable. Many people loved growing their own food. And, mmm, that food, real food, tastes so good. People nowadays are so used to this other kind of stuff . . . I’m not sure they would even appreciate good food. No, no,” it was as if she were arguing with herself, “of course they would. Especially the fresh herbs. Oh, and the fruit: apples, oranges, pineapples, peaches, plums. Oh Dante,” she held his hands. “If you could pick fruit ripened on the tree, n
ot those silly kind the supermarkets used to sell, and bite into it—something really sweet and juicy—maybe a really juicy apple, a big crunch and then juice running down your chin. Or a peach,” she was nearly ranting now, “a fresh, ripe, yellow peach. Oh what I wouldn’t give for a peach.” Her voice trailed off.

  “What’s a peach?” Dante asked.

  “A peach is like eating sunshine. The flesh is a bright, deep yellow, or soft pink—smooth, and velvety. It’s a Sweetie and Juice and summer all at once. It’s heaven.”

  “Wow,” the small boy said reverently. “I hope those seeds Clare has make peaches.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Ana said. “A lot of fruit comes from trees, and trees would be hard to hide. Berries—melons, possibly—but most fruit we will have to dream about for the future. Anyway, where was I?”

  “You were telling us that turning a seed into food was hard work, but that some people liked the work,” Clare said.

  “And that the food you make from seeds tastes better than the food we have now,” Lily added.

  “Oh, yes, precisely, that’s where I got carried away.” She raised her white eyebrows and smiled.

  Ana reached down and pulled something from the pocket of her sweater. She rested her closed fist on the table and opened it slowly like a flower opening its petals to the sunshine. Three small capsules were inside. They were hard and white, with little black eyes.

  “What is it?” Dante asked. “Fruit?”

  “Seeds!” Ana said.

  Stunned cries came from the children.

  “But they don’t look like the other seeds you gave me,” Clare said.

  “That’s true. I’ve only brought you small seeds, ones that were easy to pass. These are bean seeds,” she said, placing one in each child’s hand. “They’re one of my favorites to watch grow. Now listen while I explain the process. We’re almost out of time.” The children listened, holding the precious seeds tightly.

  “To grow food, you bury the seed in soil. The seed needs water to begin growing, to sprout; germination it’s called. After a certain amount of time, if the soil is warm enough and the seed stays moist, a plant will grow from within the seed, pushing up through the soil.”

  She paused, checking the children’s faces for comprehension. “Each seed contains within it a complete plant and everything the plant needs to grow.”

  Dante broke the silence that followed. “So it’s all there in the seed? The whole plant is just waiting inside the seed? It’s like a treasure that you need to bury instead of one that you dig up?”

  “So it is, Dante, so it is.”

  “Then what?” Lily prodded, trying to get to the bottom of things.

  “Well, the plant grows bigger and bigger if it continues to have light and water. Some plants produce a fruit containing seeds. Other plants will just make more seed. And so it goes. You already know the other parts of the plant. People ate various plants, and different parts of each plant. Sometimes the preferred part is the leaves, sometimes it’s the root, or stem—”

  “Eww!”

  “—other times it’s the fruit, or even the seed.”

  “People eat the seeds?”

  “Look at your bean seeds: beans are very popular food in many parts of the world—and used to be here.”

  “But they’re so small,” said Lily.

  “And hard,” added Dante.

  Ana laughed. “You make them soft,” she explained. “And you eat a whole pile of them,” she said, looking at Lily.

  “Oh.”

  She sensed their hesitation.

  “So that’s it?” Clare said. “You bury the seeds in soil and they grow into plants, and you eat the plants? How long does it take?”

  “It takes time.” She could tell Clare was disappointed. But what could she expect? These children were used to instant food, instant information, ready-made everything. Still, she knew the desire was there. Be patient, she told herself. Bring them along carefully. Children are our only hope.

  9

  CARROTS ARE ROOTS!

  On their next visit, the children brought their math textbooks. Ana had suggested it would look more natural to have school books scattered about the table.

  They were excited. Today she had promised to teach more about vegetables. They had really enjoyed hearing about the juicy, sweet, good-as-summer fruit Ana had described. But she explained that eventually they would be growing food and saving seeds, and since most fruits grew on sizable bushes or trees, it was better to focus on vegetables and herbs. They had added the new words and definitions before leaving on their last visit. Now they were ready to learn.

  As usual, they started with reading from the Bible. They read from 2 Samuel 17, about how the people were hungry in the desert and the kind of food they brought along. Among the foods mentioned were beans, the very seed Ana had shown them last time. Then they read about vegetables called cucumbers and onions. Ana explained about each of these plants, how they grew, and which parts were eaten. The children took notes and sketched from Ana’s examples. They still had a hard time fathoming how you’d ever eat a root. It was bad enough to consider a leaf or a stem, but a root?

  “Clare,” she said, “you do still have the first packet of seeds I gave you?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “And the second?”

  The girl nodded her head.

  “Did you look inside the packets?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were the seeds the same?”

  “No. The seeds in the second packet were even smaller than the first.”

  “Those are for a vegetable called carrot. Carrots are the root of the plant.”

  The children didn’t know what to say, so said nothing.

  Ana borrowed two of Dante’s crayons and began drawing a picture. She drew a long, orange triangle with a branching, green top. “Carrot,” she said.

  “Where is the root?” Lily asked.

  “This orange part is the root!” Ana exclaimed. She pulled a brown crayon from the box and drew a line between the green and orange parts of the carrot. “Here, the ground is here.” She tapped her crayon on the brown line. “At the right time, you pull the carrot out of the ground. You eat this part—the root.”

  “Do you cook it?” Lily asked.

  Ana moved her head slightly from side to side. “It can be eaten cooked or raw,” she said, “either way.”

  “Wow,” said Dante. “Just like that, out of the ground? No Store, no microwave? No sauce?”

  “Oh, like all food, you can do a lot with it to increase its flavor, but yes, you can eat a carrot just plain, right out of the ground.”

  “Sooo,” Clare surmised. “We are going to be growing carrots?”

  Ana smiled and nodded.

  “Cool,” said Dante.

  Each child scrawled the word “carrot” in their notebooks along with their own labeled sketches, being careful to color it just right.

  “Ana,” Clare asked, before going home, “when will we plant the seeds?”

  “Soon, dear one. Soon.”

  10

  A GRIM HISTORY

  Ana knew the time was coming when she must move beyond the pleasant task of teaching, and clearly tell the children the risks involved. She felt certain they would want to continue, but it was important they fully understand the path ahead. After that, she would provide detailed instructions on seed sowing, tending, and harvesting. Eventually, she’d set them up with other Seed Savers and bequeath all of her seeds to their care. At times, she worried they were too young.

  There was so much to do.

  The old woman took her calendar off the wall. Very soon it would be time to plant the first seeds. Maybe they need only plant a few this year. Yes, of course; they should proceed cautiously. One could never be too careful.

  It had been years since Ana was cited for home gardening. Thankfully, neither her seeds nor her books had been found, but all the herbs and vegetables were confiscated or rip
ped from the ground. She had claimed she thought the cilantro, turnips, and chard sprouting throughout her small yard were inedible weeds that had gained a foothold in her landscaping. Indeed, they looked the part.

  Up until the raid, Ana had grown illegal plants for years without a problem. Since then, she’d been more careful. She grew most plants indoors now, and sometimes scattered a few seeds in empty lots around town, collecting the seeds later in the season. She wanted to keep as many fresh seeds as possible. It was all part of being a Seed Saver.

  And now she was doing the last thing Seed Savers did: teaching someone younger to carry it forward until the dawn of a new day, a day when the old ways of gardening were no longer unlawful. She sighed deeply, thinking of the task in front of her, and of the looming shadow on the land: GRIM.

  Although it was GRIM now—an actual arm of the government—it had started earlier with private corporations: BENAR, Nipungyo, Qubceq. Some pointed to the Supreme Court ruling of 1980 okaying the patenting of living organisms as the beginning of the end.

  A prediction was made around the turn of the century that if Nipungyo had its way, no farmer in the country, perhaps even the world, would ever own a seed again. It was a prediction that had since gained federal authorization in several nations, and it applied to everyone, not just farmers. All sanctioned seeds in America were genetically enhanced and patented. Owning, purchasing, and planting of all seeds was controlled by the government. The average person knew nothing about growing his or her own food.

  Ana shook her head. The average person wouldn’t recognize food beyond Vitees, Sweeties, Carbos, Proteins, and Snacks.

  She thought back to how it all began. The loss of freedom in gardening and farming was gradual, and started—or so it appeared—innocently enough. Scientists created biotec, or genetically modified seeds, to improve crop production: seeds whose plants were resistant to drought, disease, and insect damage; seeds that produced plants with larger fruit and longer shelf life. Chemical companies created seeds whose plants survived their herbicides, making it easier for farmers to produce a clean and weed-free crop.