fridge i got the seeds

Can Seeds die because of to cold in The Fridge

Поэтому я никогда не заморозил свои семена и не хранил в холодильнике, даже если это часто рекомендуется. Я лично храню их сухим и легким защищенным при комнатной температуре (подвал). Имейте уже 5 лет семена готовы прорастать без каких-либо проблем.

У меня будет совет, прежде чем вы положите его в воду, чтобы проращивать, упаковать его в маленькую коробку (или аналогичную) и встряхнуть его ненадолго. Я не могу сказать вам, почему это работает, но это помогает. И да, я знаю, это звучит странно :sweat_smile: :joy:

Не замораживать их и бросить сухой пак в герметичный контейнер с ними это все, что нужно для хранения.
Влажность является большей опасностью, чем температура.

Это покрыло.. meh prob не вы, я бы внимательно взглянул на source.

Categories: Other. Other. Grow Question by Mrs_Larimar. Best place to get answers to your grow questions. Worldwide community of enthusiast growers will share experience.

Seeds Straight From Your Fridge

By Michael Tortorello

  • Feb. 23, 2011

FOR an all-purpose garden tool, you can’t beat a full set of molars. Andrew Montain, a 28-year-old urban farmer, presented this theory the other day in my kitchen, as he rolled a nutmeg seed in his hand like a gobstopper.

“I want to crunch into this with my teeth and see what happens,” he said. Maybe it was a shell. Maybe it was a whole seed. He was eager to find out, but first he had a question: “How’s your liability insurance?”

I had invited Andrew to my home in St. Paul not to test his dentition, but to conduct a botanical experiment: If we plopped this nugget in a tray of dirt, would it grow into a nutmeg tree?

What I was imagining was a kitchen garden in the most literal sense: a crop borne of the pantry instead of the usual seed catalog.

For generation after generation of farmers, the staple crops we ate at the table — wheat and barley, maize and beans — were the same seeds we sowed in the fields. They were descendants of the first semi-wild crops that had more or less “ ‘volunteered’ for domestication,” as Peter Thompson, the British conservationist, wrote in his 2010 book, “Seeds, Sex and Civilization.” These seeds “germinated rapidly, completely, and at low temperatures.”

Today’s farmers, with their pedigree seeds, grow foods that are bigger and more bountiful than the peasant crops of the past. The viability of the seeds these cereals, legumes, fruits and vegetables produce, though, is an afterthought.

Yet whether out of nostalgia or novelty, the home gardener likes to tinker with the old ways. The “Don’t Throw It, Grow It Book of Houseplants,” published in 1977 and reissued a few years ago, introduced readers to dozens of seeds that could jump from a dinner plate to a planter. And one of the book’s authors, Deborah Peterson, advanced the cause by founding the Rare Pit and Plant Council, a New York-based gardening club.

The group’s newsletter, The Pits, seems to have fallen fallow. So I started from scratch in the spice drawer, with nutmeg, mustard seed, poppy seed and cardamom. In theory, at least, any of these spices could sprout into a seedling. Next, I raided the cupboard, collecting figs, dates, red beans and chickpeas. Finally, I Dumpster-dived the crisper for grapefruit and ginger.

These foodstuffs led a double life, like Reese Witherspoon’s character in “Sweet Home Alabama.” Before they were clean and dry and double-bagged, they had idled in a distant cow town.

As American consumers, we’ve become alienated from the life cycle of our food. And we’re supposed to feel ashamed of that. But then again, agriculture is a complicated global industry. By comparison, we feel no such compunction to understand where our iPhone comes from.

I, for one, had never seen a lentil plant. As I learned from the Internet (and how, pray tell, does that work?) a lentil is a grain legume, or “pulse,” that will grow to a foot or two in height. The plant self-pollinates and blossoms from the bottom up. The flowers are white, lilac or pale blue.

As it happened, I had picked up a bag of French lentils to make dal. What color would these seeds bloom? I scooped up a spoonful and added them to the kitchen seed bank.

By the time Andrew arrived, the table was cluttered with bottled herbs and dry beans and oddments that I had collected from the bulk bins at the grocery store. For the name alone, I had even picked up a stash of something labeled “sprouting alfalfa seed.” If I couldn’t get this stuff to germinate, I’d exile myself to FarmVille.

The sheer variety of food had Andrew thinking about a teaching from Shunryu Suzuki, his favorite Zen master. “ ‘In the beginner’s mind, there are many possibilities’ — that’s you,” he said. “But in the expert’s, there are few.”

Having chewed over the mystery of the nutmeg and failed to crack it, the Expert turned to Google. Apparently, our seed had already shed a shroud of red skin — mace spice came from this aril — and an overcoat of fleshy fruit. Studying the pictures, Andrew concluded that maybe his molars had been the wrong tool, after all.

What this job called for was a pair of nail clippers and a glass of water.

“You have to create some kind of hole for water to get into it,” he said. He nicked the side of the nutmeg and then dropped it into the glass. Apparently, following a manicure, what a seed likes best is a spa treatment.

A large seed, like the nutmeg, could soak overnight, imbibing water to soften the outer coat. A smaller seed might be ready in an hour. Inside, the fertilized embryo of a plant would swell and then germinate.

Next, Andrew turned to the beans. We could pierce these seeds just about anywhere, he said. But we would want to avoid the divot in the red bean that ran along the inside seam. This is where the root tip would emerge.

Or perhaps wouldn’t emerge. Call it a conspiracy theory, but apparently the international food-production system does not want my red beans, or other seeds, to sprout. A little moisture in a shipping container can spoil tons of dry goods. So processors routinely treat spices to preserve them for packaging. Some are flash-frozen and vacuum-dried, others steam-heated and sterilized.

And then there’s irradiation. This process bombards the surface of the food with high-energy electrons, gamma rays or X-rays, exterminating pathogens like E. coli, listeria and salmonella. The food does not become radioactive; by eating it, you will not become the Incredible Hulk. But a high enough dose will kill the living tissue in a plant or seed.

Growing a kitchen garden in the most literal sense: a crop borne of the pantry instead of the usual seed catalog.