For most of human civilization, we couldn't hop in the car and drive to Lowe's to buy a tomato plant.


We planted the seeds from the previous year's crop.

And if we wanted zucchini instead, we simply swapped with our neighbors.

Such small-scale farming traditions have largely been lost, even in agriculturally rich areas like San Joaquin County. Which is why, as the sun went down on Earth Day, University of the Pacific hosted a "seed swap" of its own Tuesday.

Saving and sharing seeds helps maintain the diversity of different varieties of plants. It helps remind people where their food really comes from (hint: it's not the produce section).

And it helps to break down the fences that divide us, quite literally, from our neighbors, whose backyard gardens might have the heirloom veggies we covet - but we'll never know if we don't share.

"It's not just about the seeds," said 21-year-old Jamil Burns, an environmental science major at Pacific. "The most important part of this is bringing people together from all walks of life and allowing people to know there are other people in Stockton who enjoy doing the same thing. To me, that's refreshing."

Stockton has no formal public seed swap, though recently, a retired teacher launched a seed-lending program at Cesar Chavez Central Library. Thursday's swap outside the university's new Ted and Chris Robb Garden was Pacific's first attempt to hold a seed exchange.

Stockton schoolteacher Floyd Bohnett and his wife, Debra, brought a plastic baggie with baby Teddy bear sunflower seeds.

They sounded skeptical about striking a deal. "We're just doing a look-see," Floyd Bohnett said.

And yet, within 15 minutes or so, the couple had traded the sunflower seeds for a packet of cantaloupe seeds.

"This is really cool," Floyd Bohnett said. "It's urban gardening in Stockton, and this is a good start."

Stockton grower Eric Firpo handed out envelopes containing seeds for his sister's "killer cherry tomatoes."

"Go ahead, I have tons more at home," he told one trader, who eagerly accepted. Maybe next year Firpo's sister's killer tomatoes will be grown in a new garden, by someone who is no longer a stranger.
