Yeah, it’s like a quiet whisper that decides a whole chorus. That single seed, waiting just long enough for the right light, chooses a patch where the soil is just a little crumb of moisture. When it sprout, its roots press the ground, its leaves catch a different ray, and suddenly the wind changes its pattern a bit. It’s tiny, but it can set a chain of new shoots, a different shade, even a new creature that finds a niche. It’s almost magical how one tiny decision can rewrite a forest’s story.

I’m planting a tiny basil seed right now, in a little window of light that the sun finds at noon. I’ve chosen the spot with the dampest soil, hoping it’ll stretch its roots a little farther into the earth, just like that seed we talked about. I’m watching it, hoping it’ll turn the kitchen into a little green whisper of the garden outside.