Propagation Part 1

A green haw I grew from seed collected from my Seminole tree. It is 2 years old and stands about 18 inches tall. 

Many of my friends who grow plants for a living do so by cuttings. Although some plants are a bit tricky to propagate this way, most can be easily tricked into producing roots at the end of each sample. By doing so, cuttings can be turned into blooming-sized plants in a short amount of time. For those who depend on this income for their livelihood, it makes a lot of sense to take cuttings from "parent" plants and have sellable specimens without a lot of time investment.
I just don't like growing plants from cuttings. I could argue that cuttings are simply clones and that plants produced this way reduce the genetic diversity that's available in the market. This argument is certainly true, but for me also a bit disingenuous. I grow my plants from seed because I love the entire process. Cuttings are mechanical; seeds are magic.
There is something special to me about sowing seed and waiting for the magic to begin. For some, it may take weeks or months for the tiny green cotyledons to appear. Others can germinate in days after they are sown. Each species has its own "personality" in terms of germination and that fascinates me.  I do not need instant gratification. Perhaps it is an artifact of my childhood; sending box tops off in the mail and then waiting in anticipation for my SASE (that's a self-addresses stamped envelope) to arrive back to my mailbox with the prize inside. I don't want to open my Christmas presents early; it spoils the fun. I feel the same way about seeds. I sow them and then I get to check the flat daily, sometimes more often, to see if something is starting to come up. To me, that is magic.
Seeds are, in fact, magical beings. Each is a baby plant awaiting its time to be born. Wrapped around it is a seed coat that helps to direct an orderly germination response and a "suitcase" of endosperm on which it can feed while it awaits germination and the ability to feed directly on sunlight. The seeds of different species are programmed to sprout under specific conditions and this has been shaped by evolution and each species' unique ecology. For example, the seeds of plants in northern climes generally need a prolonged period of cold before they will sprout. This ensures that they won't sprout before spring and thus freeze to death during the winter. Seeds from plants in arid climates generally need a prolonged period of moisture before germination will occur. This ensures that the seedlings will have ample moisture to establish a solid root system before typical droughty conditions return.
All of this is defined simply as stratification. Over the years, I have learned how each of the species I typically grow responds once I sow them. It's been a lot of trial and error, but as I stated above, I find it fascinating. There is little to be amazed about watching roots emerge from the end of a cutting.
I have been preparing for this time in my new landscape for several years. Although my ex-wife and I had not originally planned to divorce, she had made it clear that she was planning to sell the home and move to a new one. For me, that meant collecting seed from my favorite plants and growing a few specimens of each.
I have been saving 1-gallon specimens of my favorites for several years and I moved these with me to my new home in Holiday. For some, I had no choice because they are not commercially available. That is true for two of my favorite hawthorns - green haw (Crataegus viridis) and littlehip haw (C. spathulata).  I have a special affinity for the hawthorns and my life would not be the same without these species nearby. For others, however, my desire to "grow my own" is simply my bias coming through. I like the fact that I know exactly where the seed came from and this cements a bond between the plant in my landscape and the special natural area that I explored and collected seed from. I also get a lot of pleasure knowing that I parented this seed to the specimen now functioning in my yard.
As I write, I have planted many of the woody plants that I brought with me from my former home. I have finally freed their roots from the black-plastic pots they were confined in and I feel like I have fulfilled the compact I made with their seed several years ago when I collected it. I will purchase a great many others once spring has arrived. All of this, however, gives me time to plan and to better study my new location. I do not mind the wait, though I am not a patient man by nature. I enjoy the anticipation and the planning process.
My wildflower garden will be grown from seed I collected last fall. It has been sown in flats and these seeds are germinating.  Eventually, the meadow I envision will have come solely from my horticultural hands. That will give me the most satisfaction. I have nothing against nursery-propagated specimens. I just prefer to have done it myself. Of course, some of these are not being grown by any of the commercial nurseries and I had no choice. I started my little hobby nursery, Hawthorn Hill, because many of the wildflowers that I wanted in my native-plant landscape were not available. I would collect a few seeds and grow them for myself. If they fared well in my landscape, I would then have "extra" seed to share with others.
I get a lot of questions about starting a wildflower garden from seed and about seed propagation. I will write more about those topics in another post.

Seedlings of Silphium compositum

Seedlings of Liatris savannensis

Seedlings of Rudbeckia hirta - S FL form

Penstemon australis seedlings, seed sown 4 months ago. Almost ready for the landscape.