It is incredibly easy to find and distribute new types of plants. The world is rich in diversity. Like waves on an ocean, no two are alike. People are naturally attracted to this beauty in the plant kingdom. As a nursery owner, I never would never interfere with someone’s tastes of plants. The type of creativity involved in this process of selection and discovery is similar to music in many ways. You could be classically trained or have a natural ear for music. Someone may find your music appealing and another person may not care for it. This does not matter to you because you are doing it for your own enjoyment and hope people come along for the ride. It is interesting to me from a personal perspective. Many years ago, a USDA research scientist James Duke called my office supporting my work and commenting on the connection between music, plants and people. I found that extremely fascinating. Over time while visiting many plant breeding universities and attending different farming programs I was fortunate to have discussions with real life research scientists who devote their life to this calling. You soon find that the narrow focus of industry really slows down innovation. Here music is very stoic, traditional and oatmeal like in flavor and texture. Don’t expect another “Weather Report” to appear on the horizon. ‘Mysterious Traveler’ if you are interested. There are many creative musical possibilities. But most do not see the light of day in agriculture. As you know with no light there is no photosynthesis. Yet the work around solution appears to be within the grasp of small farmers and nursery people who have taken the reigns and are charting their own destiny. To me this is the new frontier of creative endeavors in terms of the agricultural sciences. You can find so many wonderful solutions and applications on many levels. It is the new music. Not biotech.
It was from here, either through purchasing, exchanging, or selling seeds that I began to see the world as it is while meeting many ‘musicians’ of farming whose influence may not be known by the public at large.
The Music Flows Like a River
A concert I attended in college was with the Kalamazoo Symphony Orchestra and classical guitarist Christopher Parkening. After the orchestral pieces were finished he came back on stage for an encore and performed ‘Afro-Cuban Lullaby’. I got lost in the melody. It didn’t even sound like a guitar. There was no plucking. So smooth and even. I think I floated back to my dorm. Many years later I traveled to meet a seed supplier that I purchased seed from many times over the course of a decade. His name was Ralph Kreider. As soon as I met him, I knew he was someone with the creativity of a Christopher Parkening with deep connections to nature and farming. His living conditions were not the best and unfortunately he was wedged into a horrible financial agreement from the early 1900’s of tenant farming philosophy. Yet here was this creative genius where we talked openly about spirituality, consciousness, plants, physics, music and anything else you could dream of. Keep in mind this is someone many years older than me with a good 40 year gap. The giant pile of Scientific Americans and Smithsonian magazines in his living room was immense. You could dive into that pile. I imagine that is what Ralph did after he put his mom to bed. He must of been a voracious reader with a great intellect far beyond what the stereotype of his ‘old farmer’ image. Plus he was taking care of his elderly mother too not to mention livestock. I did not know any of this until I arrived. We traveled to meet James Claypool. We visited a friend’s tractor museum where the walls were lined with local woods. We visited the original Pipher persimmon tree.
This is one of the seedlings of Pipher at my farm. I planted one small row of it. It was a very good seedling producer. When we visited the tree, Ralph knew the homeowners who allowed him to collect seed. It was a huge tree in the middle of a small town in central Illinois.
We had dinner together at a country diner. He chose peach pie. Again I invited him to my home hoping he could come for the holidays. Before I left, I realized it was his connection and love to the people he helped that mattered the most. The plants were an avenue. Like the notes of a musical score, alone they are nothing without an ear to fall upon. Ralph knew that. His music flowed like a river, ever widening finding places to go where there was no water before greening the grass as it traveled to the ocean. Ralph was that river.
