Seeds, new beginnings and ancient ways

What better way to start our new season of Family Saturday, than celebrating seeds! The start of life for so many plants.

We began our day in the warmth of the Roundhouse. A fire was crackling in the wood burning stove. At the centre of our circle, we placed an extraordinary large pine cone, so large it required two hands to hold. Around it the children eagerly sat, parents and older children on benches around the outside.

We began with four deep, mindful breaths, inviting everyone to imagine themselves as a seed, safe within a protective coat, patiently awaiting the moment to grow. The children sat in silence learning all about the journey of the seed, as if they were a seed, the moment fostered a sense of stillness and connection amongst the group.

We welcome the new families, by introducing ourselves by name, but also which seed we would like to be - olive stone, mango, coconut, sunflower, apple and watermelon seeds. Each seed, like each person, is unique and full of potential.

We then passed around some hard grains of wheat. We learned of wheat’s importance,  how some grain found in ancient pots from thousands of years ago could still sprout today. The children were invited to participate in a 10,000-year-old ritual: making flour. 

We used large round pebbles and later a pestle and mortar and took it in turns grinding the wheat. 

A poignant moment unfolded as a parent shared with her daughter, "This is what my grandmother used to do back in India." The child’s eyes opened wide - “and now you are showing me how to do something that your grandmother did.” It was a moment of profound ancestral connection. Another said this is how my mother in Ethiopia processed the grain. The still air of the Round House became rich and timeless with the talk of seeds,  in the presence of our ancestors, the sharing of an ancient tradition, the rocking, rhythmic pounding of stone against grain.

I had only ever made flour once - in my liquidiser at home. It took less than a minute to make, but the practice opened up a huge journey of learning, which I shared with glee. One parent,  a passionate bread maker,  had never thought to make their own flour. Hearing of the health and taste benefits, they were as excited as the younger milliners, who had now turned their hand to something equally rewarding - making dough.

Some parents stepped outside into the garden and were building a fire in an old washing machine drum. As the fire was coming to temperature we took our dough out onto chopping boards and rolled it into flat breads, our faces lit by a wintery sun.  It felt like the promise of spring, echoed in the purples and yellows of the crocuses. It felt so good to be back in the Story Garden.

We remarked how long the process took - of making flour, starting a fire, making bread . Everyone felt lighter, seemed to laugh more easily as we relaxed into that elusive quality - patience, grasped with two hands that so called rare thing - time.

In the afternoon the group also looked at grains under the microscope, and our wonderful voyage with seeds continued. We made a seeded tasty snack, we did seed drama and told stories. One child came up with a song which she sang to the group as we shared bread.
 

It was a lovely day to be in the Story Garden, the first of 2025, holding seeds, sharing stories and making food.

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Notes from the Garden