December 2020
Sometimes looking at these photos I still have to pinch myself to remember these are zinnias.
For most of my life I associated zinnias with the brightly colored bedding plants that fill garden center shelves in late spring—quick, loud six-packs of color in all the shades of hot pink, red, and yellow. Somewhat clunky, but perfect for cheery market bouquets and spaces in the summer garden that need a splash of color to catch the eye from a distance.
Since moving to the Central Valley where dahlias struggle to thrive, zinnias have captured my heart as one of the focal queens of summer and early fall on our farm.
Our first year in the valley I grew close to 30 different zinnia mixes and varieties hoping to find a few that would work well for our floral design customers. In that field of mixes there bloomed an exceptionally large pale peach zinnia that was unlike anything I’d ever seen before, and I hoped to save seed from it, but didn’t get around to labeling the plant (of course, thinking I would remember exactly where it was and get to it before all the flowers went to seed).
Our plants that year grew five feet tall and eventually toppled in a windstorm, and continued growing in a big tangled mess. When I finally managed to wade through to gather seed in the fall, the flowers were done, and while I searched high and low for any remaining buds that could give me a clue, I couldn’t be sure which plant had been the one I fell in love with. I ended up saving seed from several plants in the general area where it had bloomed, and hoping for the best. I was disappointed, but also overwhelmed with getting the business off the ground and couldn’t give it much more thought than that.
The next year we grew out some of the seed I’d saved and ended up with a few beautiful blush flowers (which became the original parents of the seed line pictured above) and that was very exciting! Alas, nothing from the row resembled the peach blooms I remembered.
However that year we planted our chrysanthemums in the old zinnia field in late June, and to my surprise several zinnia seedlings sprouted up among the rows. We weeded around them, something in me hoping that maybe, just maybe, the peach plant would come back...
Miraculously, it did! All the volunteer seedlings that bloomed were pink—except one, which was almost exactly as I remembered it. I had been given another chance, and this time I was ready.
Since then this project has become the highlight of my farming seasons, and the process of selecting, crossing, and working alongside several generations of these plants has led to the truly remarkable colors and forms you see here and on our Instagram feed. I was gifted a chance to steward these seeds, and the incredible genetic traits they hold are a kind of beauty that so many gardeners and farmers are in a place to appreciate…
In 2020, soon after the birth of our first child, I was diagnosed with a severe lung disease associated with agricultural dust here in the central valley. As I fell into critical condition and went in and out of hospitalization, we struggled to keep the farm afloat and our employees paid. Amidst the pandemic, I sat for months incapacitated in bed and in the hospital infusion center receiving treatments, and hope after hope that I had slipped through my fingers. It occurred to me in the lowest of lows, that if our crew could get a generation of these zinnias planted before the fall, I would be happy for the year... so I sat wrapped in a blanket in the sun on the back deck and sowed the seeds, not knowing if I would get to see them bloom. But day by day, bit by bit things fell into place, thanks to our small team of employees. I started feeling a little better in the fall, and spent some time every morning and evening sitting with the Zinnias, appreciating them, and marking selections. I could feel their beauty and my appreciation and excitement for the project bringing back a little of the sparkle I had lost, and giving me energy to keep moving forward day by day. Last winter our small crew took the extra seeds from all those 2020 breeding parents and used them to launch our first fundraiser to keep the project going. We sent seed to hundreds of generous supporters across the US, and had the resounding joy of seeing them bloom in your gardens this past summer!
Looking forward, the goal of our farm’s breeding program is to get seeds into the hands of the people who will love them, nurture them, sing their song, appreciate their beauty, and then save their seeds to plant again and again. In this way both the plants, and the people that love them, have hope for the future.
Thank you to everyone here for supporting this project, investing in its future, and delighting alongside me in the exquisite beauty of plants! If you feel compelled to contribute to these continued efforts, you can do so here. Donations of any size are incredibly helpful and appreciated at this time.
Here’s to bright thoughts of the future, and all the gardens that helped people make it through this incredibly difficult year.
Warmly,
Kori
PS. In the image gallery below you can catch a glimpse of some of the other plants currently in-progress in our program, a few of which we are offering through our web shop for the first time this year (seed available until sold out for the season).
