Canada: City Farmer Makes Bouquets From Silkworm Cocoons

Maria Keating raises silkworms which feed on mulberry leaves growing at City Farmer in Vancouver

By Maria Keating
Dec 17, 2018

In 2008, I was on the search for a mulberry tree. As the “official” bug lady at City Farmer, I wanted to explore the potential for growing silkworms for visitors so they could learn about the lifecycle of insects in the garden. I knew very little about the plant, and purchased the first Morus I came across. The lacklustre, weeping white mulberry species was not inspiring, offering neither substantial fruit nor real garden presence. The search continued.

In 2010, I met a lovely woman from the Van Dusen Garden ‘Seedy Saturday’ sale who was selling various berry bushes, and I asked her if she had any red or black mulberry trees at her nursery. She explained that she would have to get the green light from her husband who loved their three mulberry trees. Already excited from her positive review, we cleared an area of blackberry that was sheltered but was large enough to give our tree room to grow. When the tree arrived the following week we were overjoyed.

Several years passed and the mulberries became a yummy, summer treat. 2017 marked the first bumper crop of berries. We waved visitors into the garden just to try the rare, delicious fruit. As passersby filtered in, it became evident that there was more to this berry than its flavour. People brought stories about the fruit from their native Nepal, China, India, Bulgaria, Iran, England and more countries. We were deeply touched by these memories and the accounts of this plant that was a part of so many lives.

Soon people brought back their children, parents and friends to taste the fresh, juicy morsels. Our tree had grown so big that we spread tarps below it and shook the branches, which caused a ‘rainfall of deliciousness’.

A raccoon was spotted high up in the tree teaching its babies how to feed on these tasty treats. After feeding, the polite animals would wash their hands to remove the sticky goodness.

Silkworm eggs arrived in the mail in mid August. I let them develop until the tiny eggs the size of ‘poppy seeds’ burst open displaying a thin mass of legs and mandibles. Then the feeding began. At first, a leaf would last a caterpillar a day. But then, as the individual beast grew to the size of an adult pinky finger, their voracious appetite took over. The chomping of leaf material soon became audible. A book described this sound as “rain hitting the roof”, and until you hear it in person, you would never guess what was making that noise.

We were feeding leaves to silkworms, in plastic totes, up to three times a day. Soon the plump critters, that felt like freshly rolled pizza dough, started to look for places to spin their cocoons. Ever so slowly, silk strands began to emerge, wrapping around the silkworm, until the veil of the strands became a thick layer of almost felt-like texture. Inside the ‘white cloud’ (the cocoon), the secret transformation from silkworm to moth began. The thought of having your body liquefy into a DNA soup to be reborn again into a fluttering, fuzzy adult still blows me away.

Watching the moths emerge from their billowy capsule requires patience, as you want to pull the little beast out to help it realize its full potential. Alas, the fragility of the softened body leads you to merely watch in awe. Details of the natural world are so fascinating when seen up close in person.

The empty silk cocoons started to pile up, as adult moths emerged and found partners. The adults don’t move very much. They just flutter around as the males are attracted to the pheromones of the larger female. Once mated, it is important to remove empty cocoons so the surface is not covered with the 500 eggs the female could lay.

The act of emergence from the cocoon actually compromises the silk thread. Unreeling the silk at this point would be a laborious task so I wondered what I could create with these little shapes. I started to cut and bend and stack layers together to form little flowers. I have been a glass artist for over 15 years and decided to integrate a dichroic glass headpin to tie it all together. I used commercial acid dies with a base of vinegar to give the little beauties some bright fun colour. Next year I will take natural dyes grown in the garden to add colour to the delicate petals.

Maria Keating’s website.

Maria Keating’s website.