Every tiny seed holds a bit of life, stored efficiently enough that it can spring into growth in some future time when conditions permit. The saying goes that every acorn holds the potential for a future forest of oaks. Although that acorn will grow into only a single tree, that new tree can produce millions of acorns during its own life.

Every seed is a rich package of DNA, stored proteins, carbohydrates and minerals in the cotyledon, and a tiny embryo plant ready to extend its tiny root into the world as it begins to grow. Everything that embryo needs to fuel its growth in its first few days, until it can photosynthesize, must already be there in the seed. There is magic in watching life emerging from a seed as it cracks open, allowing that embryo to grow into its potential.

Some gardeners save seeds from their favorite plants to sow next year. But many gardeners rush to deadhead flowers as they fade, tidying up and encouraging new blooms. A few of us enjoy watching the unfolding of each flower from bud, to blossom, to fruit or ripened seed.

A single plant can produce tens of thousands of seeds each year. This is bad news when the plant isn’t desirable, or you simply don’t have space for them to mature. In those years when I’ve been soft-hearted, curious, or neglectful, and allowed certain seeds to ripen, I’ve paid for it in subsequent years with a huge crop of seedlings to manage. I had a sea of goldenrod seedlings to pull this year, and I can see the damage the goldenrod has done in crowding out more desirable plants in recent years. I also have a sea of garlic chives, which now serve as a ‘matrix’ plant cropping up in odd spaces everywhere.

Yet, some gardeners design their spaces around plants that reliably self-seed year to year. After establishing a few individuals in year one, they expect an ever evolving display of flowers from seedlings in years to come. It takes great faith to scatter flower seeds in fall or winter in expectation of summer flowers. Bulbs seem much safer, mainly because seeds prove such a valuable treat for wildlife in winter.

When you consider that only a very small percentage of seeds ever have the opportunity to germinate and mature, it almost makes sense to let the patch of Rudbeckia stand while birds forage its seeds all winter. I love watching a flock of goldfinches rise from their feasting as I walk past. And now Rudbeckia seedlings come up each spring in sunny spots around our yard. The small black-eyed Susans aren’t so much of a problem, though I gave dozens away this spring. It is the much taller varieties that take so much space and shade other plants.

Wildlife gardeners know that birds and butterflies respond more readily to a large population of a species than they will to an individual here and there. Volume makes a difference when trying to attract certain animal species to your yard. They have to ‘see’ what is there and have some confidence that there is enough volume to meet their needs. Monarchs may not see a single milkweed plant in a pot as they flutter past. But they will certainly see, and visit, a larger stand of plants where their larvae will find enough food to mature.

That is why it can be a good thing to grow a greater volume of fewer species. Garden designers advise us to plant in blocks of three to seven plants. That may not be in the budget at the plant shop, but we will certainly develop those larger blocks from flowering plants left to self-seed and spread on rhizomes.

A few of the plants we grow feed pollinators with their nectar and pollen, feed various insects with their leaves, and finally feed birds and other small animals months later with their seeds. We enjoy their flowers during their season of bloom, but we often enjoy watching the butterflies and birds visiting them even more. We appreciate these plants, like Hibiscus, Physotegia or obedient plant, and Rudbeckia as much for their functionality in our wildlife garden as for their ornamental beauty while in flower.

To get a full measure of value from plants like these, we have to let them go into decline. This can be tough when we feel that others will judge our garden spaces on neatness. Once they are no longer ‘pretty,’ we feel obliged to do something to neaten them up.

That something generally means cutting them back, or at the least deadheading their fading flowers and browning seed capsules. Yet even those brown, dying stems provide habitat for many insects that overwinter in our garden, which also means another source of winter food for those birds who stay behind. Simple ‘signs of care’ like paths, fences, art, neat shrubs and blooming containers can telegraph to visitors that the fading plants are intentional.

Nutrient packed seeds left standing in the garden can mean a difference between life and death for songbirds, mice, squirrels, and so many other small animals through the coldest months of the year. Instead of offering purchased seed mixes, we can let nature play out her own plans and rhythms in our gardens. Everything in nature multi-tasks, and everything is interrelated. Plants aren’t ornaments so much as nodes in the web of life. If we can see the beauty in even these ripening and declining stages in our gardens, we will support more life than we can ever imagine.

With appreciation to Jim Stephens of Garden Ruminations, who hosts Six on Saturday each week.

You might enjoy my series of posts, Plants I Love That Deer Ignore.

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