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The tale of a brave little seed...a short 'true' story, by Pa Snips.
The tale of a brave little seed
Once upon a time, a long time ago, way back in the year 2012, a once-tall-and-proud tomato plant slowly withered as its life-cycle neared its end. The remaining few tomatoes, which never fully ripened and began rotting alive due to their hosts botrytis-plagued frame, fell one-by-one to the floor. Over time they began to shrink and dry out and then were subjected to freezing temperatures, night after night, during the long harsh winter that followed.
As the nights grew warmer, and the days longer, the greenhouse tender returned to prepare his little glass church-of-growth, the place in which he can marvel at the miracle of plant life and offer praise to that wondrous little parcel of genetic coding – the humble seed.
Whilst clearing out the long-dead remains of the previous year’s edible-gift bearers, plans began to develop in the greenhouse tender’s mind about how to utilise the available space in a more-efficient way than in the previous year. Amongst other things, it was decided that the tomato plants would be on the opposite side and that they would be on the floor, rather than on the staging, to allow for their lofty frame to grow unhindered.
These thoughts were quickly brushed aside as there was a more-pressing task to attend to – completing the preparation of the church-of-growth.
With all the remnants of the previous year’s harvest removed, the tender’s attention became focussed on the floor. Strewn with scatterings of compost, leaves, bits of branch and the odd tomato carcass here-and-there, a thorough sweeping was in dire need.
During the process of eliminating the accumulated waste matter, one of the shrivelled old tomato-shells split and one of the tiny seeds, which had - until this time - been a prisoner, escaped and bounced across the paved floor. This went by unnoticed by the tender who simply stood back and smiled as he surveyed his church-of-growth, now ready for the cycle of life to begin again.
The weeks passed by and new seedlings eventually began to emerge, stretching out to absorb the life-giving sunlight, whilst below ground their tendril-like roots grew deeper into the compost to soak up the nutrients needed for their continued growth. The greenhouse tender ensured his little green friends had sufficient water to complete their requirements and a sense of harmony once again returned to the confines of the greenhouse.
Overspill from the watering process had naturally made its way to the lowest available space, as is expected when a liquid is subjected to the forces of gravity, and the gaps between the flagstones received most of it.
Some of the water that had filled the micro-canal-like gaps found its way to a seed, a seed that had formerly escaped from a dried husk that was barely recognisable as the tomato that it once was. The seed swelled as the water quenched its parched shell, a tap root sprouted forth, a seedling arose. The greenhouse-tender bent down one day to closely inspect the new tomato plants that he felt honoured to have the privilege of caring for when he noticed something growing from between the flagstones, at first he assumed it was a weed - and very nearly pulled it out - but luckily he paused, then leaned in closer to examine it in better detail.
Sure enough, that brave little seed had produced a glorious little tomato plant, growing out from the gap between the flagstones – right there between the other tomato plants.
The tale of a brave little seed
Once upon a time, a long time ago, way back in the year 2012, a once-tall-and-proud tomato plant slowly withered as its life-cycle neared its end. The remaining few tomatoes, which never fully ripened and began rotting alive due to their hosts botrytis-plagued frame, fell one-by-one to the floor. Over time they began to shrink and dry out and then were subjected to freezing temperatures, night after night, during the long harsh winter that followed.
As the nights grew warmer, and the days longer, the greenhouse tender returned to prepare his little glass church-of-growth, the place in which he can marvel at the miracle of plant life and offer praise to that wondrous little parcel of genetic coding – the humble seed.
Whilst clearing out the long-dead remains of the previous year’s edible-gift bearers, plans began to develop in the greenhouse tender’s mind about how to utilise the available space in a more-efficient way than in the previous year. Amongst other things, it was decided that the tomato plants would be on the opposite side and that they would be on the floor, rather than on the staging, to allow for their lofty frame to grow unhindered.
These thoughts were quickly brushed aside as there was a more-pressing task to attend to – completing the preparation of the church-of-growth.
With all the remnants of the previous year’s harvest removed, the tender’s attention became focussed on the floor. Strewn with scatterings of compost, leaves, bits of branch and the odd tomato carcass here-and-there, a thorough sweeping was in dire need.
During the process of eliminating the accumulated waste matter, one of the shrivelled old tomato-shells split and one of the tiny seeds, which had - until this time - been a prisoner, escaped and bounced across the paved floor. This went by unnoticed by the tender who simply stood back and smiled as he surveyed his church-of-growth, now ready for the cycle of life to begin again.
The weeks passed by and new seedlings eventually began to emerge, stretching out to absorb the life-giving sunlight, whilst below ground their tendril-like roots grew deeper into the compost to soak up the nutrients needed for their continued growth. The greenhouse tender ensured his little green friends had sufficient water to complete their requirements and a sense of harmony once again returned to the confines of the greenhouse.
Overspill from the watering process had naturally made its way to the lowest available space, as is expected when a liquid is subjected to the forces of gravity, and the gaps between the flagstones received most of it.
Some of the water that had filled the micro-canal-like gaps found its way to a seed, a seed that had formerly escaped from a dried husk that was barely recognisable as the tomato that it once was. The seed swelled as the water quenched its parched shell, a tap root sprouted forth, a seedling arose. The greenhouse-tender bent down one day to closely inspect the new tomato plants that he felt honoured to have the privilege of caring for when he noticed something growing from between the flagstones, at first he assumed it was a weed - and very nearly pulled it out - but luckily he paused, then leaned in closer to examine it in better detail.
Sure enough, that brave little seed had produced a glorious little tomato plant, growing out from the gap between the flagstones – right there between the other tomato plants.
The end.
I hope the brave little seed will become a parent and bring more courageous children into the church-of-growth to nourish and sustain the greenhouse-tender 
.
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