Edited to add: I’m not suggesting anyone here is practicing totally undirected selection; this is more of a thought experiment to illustrate the different ways that these two kinds of traits behave under selection.
GtS emphasizes wide genetic diversity, wide crosses, and minimal care of plants to select the best ones. All this is to the good if properly used. However, one thing I was recently considering is that there are two kinds of relevant traits.
If one threw seeds for a wide selection of varieties for a particular crop into an unmaintained garden, and harvested whatever survived for a few generations, without any intentional selection, the plants would improve in many ways: they would become more disease and pest resistant, more adapted to the local soil and climate, and more generally vigorous (assuming that enough plants survived the initial seasons.)
A number of other traits, however, would automatically deteriorate; all those which make them desirable crops. Dry seed crops would become more prone to shattering. Many fruits would develop thinner flesh and larger seed cavities, particularly the squash. Average fruit size would probably go down. Leaves and stalks would probably become tougher and possibly bitterer, as might fruits; that’s one way to ward off pest pressure. Biennial crops might become more annual, bolting in the first year. Brassicas like cabbage or broccoli would revert to kale-like forms. This process would go faster if one included wild or wild-type plants in the original mix.
The “landrace” or “adaption” gardening method derives its strength from the first part of the equation; the automatic or near automatic increase in vigor and fitness. But if we aren’t careful, we could end up having problems with the second half. It can take a lot of careful selection to maintain the desirable agronomic and gastronomic qualities of a crop. In turn, that requires a garden layout with enough order and space so that we can tell which plants are producing what, and methods which allow us to remove undesirable plants before they irretrievably cross into the year’s seed production.
Examples: this year my GtS cucumbers produced some more-bitter fruits. It was impossible to tell which plants were producing what, and in any case it was too late in the year to remove all the bitter plants, remove all the fruit and flowers, and wait till a new batch of fruit was produced, so I’m not saving seed from my patch this year. My GtS sweet peppers produced some hot peppers, and the same situation applies, though in this case I’m saving seed, though not contributing it to GtS; since peppers cross less than cucumbers, I am hopeful I can clean the contamination out. My beans are all tangled on the same trellis; if some pods are tougher than others, how could I figure out which plant is which? They are all tough once mature . . .
My non-GtS but genetically mixed summer squash are more vigorous than the varieties I started with, and make decent eating, but none of them are as tasty and productive as the Costata Romanesco I added to the mix. (The C.R. dies early from powdery mildew, though, which the mixed plants do not.) And there is always the possibility that the squirrels will plant seeds from some of the many, many ornamental gourds and jack-o-lantern pumpkins the neighbors put out, and the cull squash that I dump in the compost, and that very inferior genetics will creep in. So many traits are only noticeable at the end of the season, after the crosses have already happened. So with the squash, I am going to start over, using known varieties and doing hand pollination, not to keep them pure, but to mix and cross them in a controlled way, allowing me to choose both parents and develop something superior in all respects to the starting varieties.
None of this is an attack of adaption gardening! But it is something I wanted to share as I consider how my gardening methods impact my ability to select excellent crops.
