TO THOSE WHO NOTICE THE SLIGHTEST HINT OF DUST IN THE ROOM.

YOUR SHARP EYES HAVE THE ABILITY TO WITNESS THE SUBTLE INTRICACIES OF DIVERSE LIFE HAPPENING ALONG YOUR EVERYDAY WALKS.

THAT’S FREAKING RARE!

"Season" roots in our human tie with plants, stemming from the Latin "serere," meaning "to sow," notes Michael Marder.

Our bond with plants runs deep. Are we open to learning? What unfolds in our nearby spaces? What can we grasp?

Winter tones surroundings down. Less sensory bombardment — fewer colors, textures, noise. Easier focus. Some seedpods and seeds are wintering above ground. Thus we ventured into a play, snapping macro photos to see where it leads us.

In Timothy Morton's view, "life is a beautiful accident." Seeds echo this, nomadic rebels thriving on chance and seizing opportunities.

Seeds seemingly let plants run, dance, fly, exploring the unknown. Noticing, observing, following seeds lead us to explore the unknown as well...?

Observing seeds can inspire to gain a better understanding of the ecological system, mutual interdependencies, plant-animal interactions.

Michael A. Steele's extensive 30-year research on oak's ecosystem emphasizes the context-dependent nature of seed dispersal, requiring a nuanced understanding of the habitat as well as scatterhoarders' psychology. But in the end, every oak is a different story.

Acorns are sizeable and packed with carbohydrates, fats, and nutrients, aiming to entice animals. However, they also harbor bitter tannins, potentially toxic in high concentrations. Oaks (Quercus) seem to simultaneously attract and repel their potential allies. Steele delves into the intricacies of this dual strategy, outlining its advantages in his research-book Oak Seed Dispersal: A Study in Plant-Animal Interactions.

Seed capsule

Seed

Seeds can travel by wind, water, and animals, but also through generations... These Calendula seeds originate from my garden (Greta's), handed down through generations starting with my grand grandmother, who passed them on to my mother's mother. According to my grandmother, in those days, the presence of Calendulas in a garden was considered a sign of a garden that is in a good health.

Winter meadow in Swedish archipelago. In the center there's either common St.John’s Wort (Hypericum perforatum) or cpotted St. John's wort (Hypericum maculatum) but there are subtle differences. Hypericum perforatum often retains dried seed capsules on its stems during winter, while Hypericum maculatum might display persistent reddish stems with a lack of seed capsules. Captured by Vitalija Povilaityte Petri.

"Real" seed size

Sleek, 1 mm in size. At a glance, they appear like specks of dust, but zoom in, and they resemble fit cucumbers!

Hypericum perforatum, Common St.John’s Wort seed capsule is elongated with three chambers.

When colors are muted, it's exciting to learn to identify wildflowers in meadows/fields/slopes from their remnants.

But what's happening below the ground in the fields/meadows? When seeds germinate, roots extend into the soil, while stems (and consequently the buds formed on them) are above ground. In early development, perennial herbaceous plants locate the bud bank below ground, where it is safe from the majority of disturbances and seasonal adversities. Bud placement may be altered by contractile roots, which are capable of pulling the plant downwards. The ability to adjust the depth of perennating organs is an important adaptation used to avoid frost exposure. A common signal for increasing the depth of organ placement is light, but it is unknown whether and how plants may adjust perennating organ depth in response to freezing exposure.

Birch seeds are easily overlooked, yet they become observable on a snowy winter day. In the cold, birch catkin scales break free, spiraling upwards, releasing small seeds that travel far usually by wind or water. Winter-dropped birch seeds become a feast for birds and small mammals. Sparrows and titmice gather under and on birches, while squirrels munch on catkins and seeds.

As pioneers in open spaces, birch trees, with their small, energy-limited seeds (compared to acorn) thrive where sunlight reaches, making them the first to colonize after disturbances.

Exploring seeds unveils chances to meet organisms that share the same habitat. As I searched for alder seeds, taking my time not to overlook, a spider caught my eye slowly moving in the -7°C cold. Turns out, it's the Silver Stretch Spider, Tetragnatha montana. It's interesting to encounter a fellow inhabitant of an alder, Some Silver Stretch Spiders, including this one, favor living close to water as well. Oh, look, there's the alder seed too! Smart nutlets with flat and waxy surfaces, boast two corky wings containing air bubbles, enable them to float and be effortlessly transported by water.

By the way, why do we call alder seed — the alder seed, and why oak's seed is called acorn?

The nut is highly nutritious, who has tasted it?

Who’s wintering here?

Will the sprout survive -15C?

It is believed that soil seed bank provides a memory of past vegetation and represents the structure of future populations. Yet the actual importance of seed banks in reducing extinction risk is unknown for most species. The soil diaspore bank includes not only seeds, but also adventitious buds on stolons, rhizomes, and bulbs, spores.

At first, land plants relied heavily on wind to disperse their spores and seeds. And then the friendship with different kin emerged. Fruits became fleshy and tasty or featured hooks, barbs, spines, or even mucilage to attach to a passing animal. Looking into the rosehips (Rosa canina) unveils a cool mix of fruit stories to observe. Some fruits tough it out in crazy cold, handling temperatures as low as -28°C. How did they get so strong? Others become bird snacks, but which birds are into them? And then, some fruits turn into habitats for bacteria, fungi.

When ice crystals form in the soil, they pull and push soil particles apart. As the ice melts, the flow of icy micro-rivers carves new pathways into the soil and helps seeds and spores move into favorable depths for spring germination.

In winter all looks grim, empty, and silent. But... Hold on... Is it? If one were courageous enough to put their ear on or close to the forest floor what they would hear? Maybe a silent moss song? Fungi, amoebas and bacteria moving? Frogs, insect larvae, and earthworms breathing in deeper soil layers? How the winter soil regenerating itself sound? Like a cracking glass or your intestinal gurgling?

Repetitive wet-dry cycles create expansion and contraction effects to reform the soil structure, it’s like the Earth getting a prolonged kobido massage.

Soils generate the warmth from the sun's radiation, but once the surface of the soil dips below 0°C, water starts to freeze. Over time, as the air gets colder and colder, the soil will continue to freeze deeper and, depending on soil type, might reach 150 cm or more in temperate regions.

The roots of the European beech (Fagus sylvatica) are snugly cloaked with layers of leaves and mosses. Captured by Vitalija Povilaityte-Petri in snowless Belgium.

Welcome to our monthly observational play. We would like to share our tiny glimpses of what do plants do in January with a focus on seeds.

Next month — February x Lichens.

Seeds sense their place in the world — how deep in the soil, who's around, what time of year it is. They weave this information to decide if it's the right time to sprout. If not, they hold off, waiting for a better moment. To ensure the new plant kicks off strong, seeds pass on a stash of food. It's like a startup pack until the plant can make its own food through photosynthesis.

Yet most seeds do not become seedlings. Buried seeds in the soil often decay over time, encountering hungry mouths or decomposers. Some might sprout too deep to grow, while others become too old and die.

Landing is also important. In plant communities with a closed canopy, seedlings face a tough road. Established plants, with their advantage in intercepting light and using resources, outshine seedlings. But there's hope in gaps — areas free of vegetation — created by disturbances, providing opportunities for seedling establishment. Gap making is like opening a door for new growth, creating spaces where resources are ready for the taking.

Yet the disturbances or gaps can be taken by non-natives. The open doors become battlegrounds that eventually reshapes the whole landscapes, cultures, economies. We have to be careful how we live with seeds, recognizing the profound impact they can have on the delicate balance of ecosystems.

Evening primrose (Oenothera biennis) seedpods play with wind wind and release seeds.