One Year of Buchu

2024, a year spent with buchu (chives in korean),
Remembering it while listening to Queen’s One Year of Love🎧

Three years ago, my dad sent me a photo over KakaoTalk, saying he was growing chives. Since then, I’ve often heard updates—how he cut the chives to make kimchi, or how fast they were growing, calling them hyoja, or a dutiful son in Korean.

Winter 2024: Meeting Buchu

Those chives flew across the country to arrive in my apartment. My dad had brought them along when he came to Korea. I like plants, but chives aren’t exactly pretty, so I didn’t feel much affection for them. That’s why there’s no photo of the chives from the day they first arrived.

When the chives first arrived, they stood upright, but within a month, they had drooped. The soil smelled awful, so I moved them from indoors to the balcony. I don’t have any photos, but a few days later, even that green had completely disappeared. The chives had died just a month after arriving.

Later, I found out that when they first arrived in my apartment, I had repotted them (trying my best to take care, haha) using compost meant as fertilizer. That’s why the chives died and the soil smelled so bad.

The clueless fool who bought random soil at Daiso… that’s me.

Spring 2024: Revival of Buchu

Convinced they were dead, I didn’t water them and, too lazy to deal with them, left them outside in the cold… and then… sprouts appeared in the pot…

After that, they kept growing little by little throughout the spring.

Summer 2024: Repotting Buchu

I decided to try growing them again, so I repotted them—not with special potting soil, but with some soil I scooped up while walking along 홍제천, a stream in the neighborhood.

The chives endured the rotten soil and the harsh winter. I thought they were dead and had given up, yet they grew back so straight and beautiful.

I’m so proud of the chives… 🥹 (getting sentimental)

This time, I repotted them carefully, using proper potting soil, organic fertilizer, and compost. My dad said that once they reached this size, he would just cut them and eat them. But having grown them myself, I couldn’t bring myself to eat them. Or rather—maybe it was the thought that they had grown in that rotten soil that made me hesitant.

Over the summer, the chives grew vigorously, and watching them thrive on their own gradually became part of my daily life. Their green leaves swaying in the breeze are refreshing and free just to look at. If I hadn’t brought chives into my home, I would never have realized just how beautiful their green can be.

자세히 보아야 
예쁘다 ​

오래 보아야
사랑스럽다 ​

너도 그렇다.

나태주 – 풀꽃

(You have to look closely
to see the beauty.
You have to look for a long time
to see the loveliness.
You are the same.
(Grass Flower by Na Tae-joo)

Fall 2024: The Flowers of Buchu

Is that a horn?

The horns kept growing.
Are you trying to become a goblin?

A second horn sprouted below the first.

That horn kept growing too,
and the original horn shot straight up so much
that it stopped being a horn and became a head.

The chives’ pure white flowers—
I never knew chives could bloom.
They’re so beautiful 🕊️

I always thought they were just garden greens to eat,
but who knew they could be this pretty as ornamental plants.

Since I live on the second floor, I sometimes wonder if passersby in the alley ever look up and spot my chives. Do they stop in awe, marveling at their beauty, gazing at them with the same love I do?

Probably not.

The reason my chives move me so deeply is probably because of the time I’ve spent with them.

Watching them endure neglect and the harsh winter,
then bravely grow again, I felt both pride and a little guilt.

And when I gave them a bit of care,
as if to repay that timid touch,
they stood tall and even bloomed.

기죽지 말고 피워봐
꽃 피워봐
참 좋아

(Don’t be discouraged, bloom.
Go on, bloom.
It’s truly wonderful.
Grass Flower by Na Tae-joo)

나태주 – 풀꽃

The chives’ green, as fresh as their flowers.

A month after the first flowers appeared,
they quietly started to wither.

They faded, leaving behind heart-shaped beads.
Could these beads be seeds?

I decided to call these heart-shaped lumps
“Unidentified Blob Objects.”
Kind of like UFOs—Unidentified Flying Objects.

I looked at the chives from every angle and discovered seeds.

The “Unidentified Blob Objects” were actually seed pods!

It seems the green blobs wither, and from inside come the black seeds. Following the flowers, my chives were giving me seeds as a gift, showing with their whole being that they were grateful for the care I’d given.

Safely keeping my precious Seed No. 1 💛

When I harvest the other seeds, I’ll store them carefully too and plant them again next spring. I’m going to make a little chive garden outside my window.

End of 2024: Time To Say Goodbye

Wanting to let my chives breathe in the most suitable soil, I searched online and created my own custom soil mix.

Cocopeat 1
Perlite 1
Coco husk 1
Huntan 1
Peat moss 1
Potting soil 5

I took the chives out of their old pot for repotting… and found their roots all tangled in the sponge. I’d put it there for drainage, but didn’t really think it through ^^ Phew… the roots had woven tightly between the sponge pieces, and it was such a pain to pull them out. In the end, I had to trim the roots ✂️

Didn’t realize the chive roots would be this lush. I planted four roots in one pot, but they’re so dense it’s almost like one root per pot would be better (or maybe I should use a large garden pot). For now, I planted them in the pots I have, planning to move them to bigger ones next spring.

How they looked right after repotting🤕
The leaves are drooping, probably because it took so long to separate the roots from the sponge. (I wrapped them in bubble wrap to keep them from getting cold)

How they looked at the time of repotting. After harvesting all the seeds, I cut off the sturdy stems that had borne the flowers.

Afterward, for some unknown reason, tiny flying insects (like gnats, small and hard to catch) appeared on the chives. I bought insecticide and sprayed them, and tried removing the bugs every day, but they kept coming back.

In the end, I had no choice but to discard the chives.

15 seeds left behind by the chives.
Should I plant them next spring?
I’m hesitant after the insect issue.

For now, I’m keeping them dried and packed in the fridge.

2024,
a year brightened by chives
—my four-season journey with them ends here.