#83: The Potted Herbs
On the simple pleasure of watching plants grow
A little while back, Eleanor wrote about Barnabus the Bamboo. Today, I wish to introduce you to Finnegan, Francesca, and Corine. AKA Fenugreek, Fennel, and Coriander.
Months ago at Christmas I was given a herb garden starter box, complete with adorable-sized pots, seeds, and compost. The subjects of today’s post are these very plants, and their steady growth.
Though I received the seeds at Christmas, I didn’t get around to planting them until about a month and a half ago. Yet I think I chose the perfect time, and not just for planting season.
As I started work on my final exams and essays I also started watching the growth of these plants. I discovered the simple joy of watching life grow. The peace of plants and their simple needs, a contrast to the academic work I was facing.
I have always appreciated plants, and I have always loved my mom’s wild garden overflowing with nature. I have loved the idea of having a garden full of carefully cared for plants and a giant vegetable patch, though I’ve never brought myself to put this into action. Now I am taking small steps with my herbs, giving myself a little taste of gardening life, while adding big taste to my latest cooking adventures. When they’re fully grown of course.
They started off just tiny, minuscule seeds in some dirt. Suddenly one day little white dots appeared in the dark earth, a promise of some success. Then they reached the stage in the photo above, shedding the shells of their seeds yet still with little pieces of dirt caught in their stems. Then a little later, I found them like this:
Looking like gangly teenagers, they started reaching eagerly for the sun. So eagerly and quickly that I had to turn them around, regularly rotating them so that they didn’t get lopsided.
And today’s progress? I’ve been away for a week, and when I went to look I found quite the surprise.
A little messy, more like the wild garden I will most likely have when I’m older, but bursting with life. I think I might need to sort them out a little; I need stocky herbs, not lanky ones. Yet the sight of them still cheers me up, making me feel a childlike joy at the sight of such greenery.
This is the joy of watching growth, the joy of spring and new life. It is the experience of wonder, at how small the seeds were and how much life has burst forth from them. It’s a simple pleasure, watching objects which aren’t really objects.
