On Samwise
This is a seed company in that it sells seeds.
A hardware store sells them too, which means you could, if you wanted, purchase them the next time you go to buy paint, mulch, or a clearanced power washer.
Your hardware store seed will sprout, and grow, and fruit like the back of the package says so. We just think ours are better.
At Samwise, it comes down to the belief that we are all deeply connected with the Earth, and embracing this symbiotic bond allows for lush gardens and delicious, nutritious vegetables that blow store-boughts out of the water.
This system of values, ones that cherish our relationship with Planet Earth, can be really simple: You nurture her; she nurtures you.
It’s philosophy’s Golden Rule, but it’s also scientific. There’s adequate watering and temperature control and feeding with organic matter like compost, but how you take care of your plants has a statistically significant impact for how they take care of you. Studies show singing, chanting, or playing classical music to your plants stimulates growth and increases yields—I’ve seen it in practice at Yealands winery in Seddon, New Zealand.
It proves I’m not crazy when I graciously thank my plants when I pick veggies. It’s because I care.
But how I’ve come to celebrate a mantra of mutual respect with plantlife—through Samwise and how I grow my own garden—warrants a peek behind the curtain.
Sharing A Love For Things That Grow
It’s probably the first question I get when I introduce the company: “Like Sam from Lord of the Rings?” With reverential respect for the character, yes, Samwise Gamgee is an inspiration behind the name—but not the only one, which I’ll get to momentarily.
First, you should understand that the literary world created by J.R.R Tolkien is very much a part of my soul. Tolkien himself was a staunch advocate for the natural world and viewed the industrial revolution and its introduction of machines, cars, and pollution as a travesty.
That’s an underlying theme in his storytelling, which is spellbinding. Though, even if you’ve never read a page, most would admit to seeing—or at least being aware of—the Peter Jackson-directed trilogy.
So, on the most basic level, understanding Samwise Gamgee’s character will suffice. He is a hobbit, an imaginative folk who are neither warriors nor scholars. Their passions lie in feasting, brewing of ales, and smoking of pipe weed. But more than anything, as described in the script, “where [their] hearts truly lie is in peace and quiet, and good tilled earth. For all Hobbits share a love of things that grow.”
Sam is the greatest embodiment of this description concerning hobbits. He’s a gardener that maintains his own property called Bagshot Row, and he’s also a contract gardener, working for others like the story’s protagonist Frodo.
Sam’s house on Bagshot Row - Hobbiton Movie Set - Matamata, New Zealand - 2019
If you want to get nerdier still, book readers will know that after the events of the Ring, Sam returned home and adopted the surname Gardener. Moreover, when the fellowship was receiving gifts in the Elven forest of Lothlórien, Sam received a garden box with soil from a hallowed orchard and a silver seed. He planted it in his ancestral homeland, fertilized with the soil, and it grew into the mightiest golden mallorn (a fictional tree species much larger than a sequoia).
Fake folklore aside, the symbolism isn’t lost: rewards come to those who respect nature’s bounty. And the extraordinary care I exercise for my own plants comes from learned experiences and heritage as much as it does a storybook.
Learning to Care for a Garden
Hobbies and passions, let alone entire belief systems, don’t sprout overnight. For me, heritage comes into play. The following influences are real people.
Much of my childhood was spent running around 12 acres of land in Venetia, Pennsylvania belonging to my grandfather Benjamin Chapman, who I’m named after (my first name is Benjamin). He had an apple orchard, grape vines, pear trees, a perennials patch where he grew rhubarb and horseradish, endless rows of giant dahlias, and a garden that I believe was just shy of meeting farmette sizing criteria.
An homage to my grandad’s dahlias—we still grow with his award-winning bulbs!
Grandad would be quick to steal me away from dreaded piano lessons with my grandma to throw me into the garden—there was always something to do.
I picked potatoes. I weeded the rows (poorly). I collected the apples my grandad would drop. I learned how to stake and when to water, and how to set mouse traps and smoke out groundhogs. I grabbed the electrified perimeter fence once, then never again. We’d dig in the dirt, and at dusk, I’d run through the tall corn stalks with my sister and cousins.
Even after we “worshed up” for dinner, the lessons weren’t over. I learned to eat my veggies, my grandad’s own veggies, or risk a spanking from a yellow yardstick—which often made appearances leaning against my grandad’s chair. For dessert, grandma would bring us chilled pears and ice cream—literal fruits of our labor. Growing, eating, and repeating were, and still are, the sweetest memories.
Grandad died too soon, passing when I was 10. And, somehow, despite the encouragement of my mother (also a keen gardener), my love of tilled earth went dormant for 14 years.
It woke up when I moved in with my girlfriend (now wife) Sarah. In clearing some overgrowth on the edge of our property, I discovered what had been a small garden bordered by railroad ties, and I wanted it to thrive again.
Fortunately, Sarah knew exactly what we could plant there: her grandad’s tomatoes. Her grandfather, Stephen Valencic, sometimes called “Big Steve,” loved to hunt, fish, play (and cheat at) cards, and grow tomatoes. A post-retirement hobby, his varieties flourished alongside his house along the Allegheny River in Natrona Heights. Trust me—these tomatoes can become enormous.
Gifted with his meticulously saved seeds and endowed with all of his secrets for growing “big juicies” and “early girls,” the small garden bloomed.
In the years and growing seasons since, I’ve carried on the legacies of both grandads. And a lot of our cross-generational passion went into the founding of Samwise Seeds.
Samwise Seeds is About Growing Gardeners
So, to recap: Yes, Samwise Seeds is about Samwise Gamgee. It’s also Benjamin Chapman. It’s “Big Steve” Valencic. It’s Ryan Deer. But it’s also you.
Because Samwise is for gardeners and growers—sowers from seed and those who struggle with a succulent. It’s for people who want to slow down, get their hands dirty, and be proud of themselves when they eat vibrant, fresh, and flavorful produce they’ve cared for since they were humble seeds.
