Seed Spotlight: Leek, the Survivor

I mentioned the cold and hot seasons, but I didn’t mention just how cold and hot it gets–or how it makes it hard to keep the crops alive ‘round here.

I say that, but it ain’t always true. Some plants’re survivors–they flat refuse to die. Leek is one of those plants. 

We’ve grown Leek in the hot season, and we’ve grown her in the cold season. Few years back I decided to experiment–I was curious if she could survive both seasons in one year. 

So, I planted Leek and a whole field of her brothers and sisters at the end o’ cold season. She started out as a slender seedling–so small ya’d think a stiff breeze could snap her in half. But no. Each day she grew stronger and stouter, teasin’ the desert with shouts of, “Can’t you do better than that?”

And, ‘course, the desert could. It sent out a blazin’ sun, and the sun climbed higher ev’ry day, sendin’ down heat so hot it rippled ‘cross the horizon. The field became an oven–those sands coulda’ burnt your skin right off. And ev’ry day it got hotter.

The field of Leeks bowed their heads, and I wondered if they’d lost the fight. I pumped a bit o’ water to the field and whispered softly to my favorite, “I know it’s hot, but don’t give up… please.” She whispered back, “Ha! We ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘less someone picks us.” 

At last the days could get no longer. The sun slipped slowly away each day, takin’ with it the ripplin’ heat. The Leeks began to stretch their flat, green leaves… but then, ‘fore ya’ could blink, it was gettin’ dark by suppertime. And there ain’t no warmth in darkness. Suddenly the world was a frigid wasteland where even blood seemed to flow thicker through my veins. Heat-lovin’ plants froze in a night.

The Leeks bowed their heads again, and I wondered if they were finally finished. Wrapped in cowskins, I shuffled to my favorite’s side, coverin’ her and her brothers and sisters in mulch and shiverin’ out a shaky whisper: “I know it’s cold, but keep hangin’ on… please.” She whispered back, “Ha! It’d have to be colder than this to take us out.” 

Then came a day as rare as it was wished for–a day neither hot nor cold. The Leeks stretched their strong, tough leaves–some of ‘em brown and frost-wilted, but others fresh as hope. My favorite’s leaves waved like a flag in a gentle breeze. Her white-green stem was thick as my thumb and finger wrapped around it; somehow, she and her brothers and sisters had won the fight. 

I worked their fleshy roots from the sand, imaginin’ pans of roasted vegetables tinged with their sweet, oniony flavor. Carryin’ ‘em like victorious heroes toward the house, I still heard my favorite callin’ out to the desert, “Can’t you do better than that?”

The desert couldn’t. 

From Sarah: Now through February 9th, 2025, get a free packet of American Flag Leek seeds with any order! Click on the button below to head over to the Shop page.