It starts with a seed.
But that's not really it, either, is it?
It doesn't start with a seed, for even the seed had it's beginning somewhere. In the process known as reproduction, two halves come together to make a whole. And what a whole! The potential for greatness lies within.
As the newly formed organism begins to grow - dividing, multiplying, becoming - the seed takes shape. This particular seed is an acorn, but it may also be a kernel of wheat, or the stone of a peach, or the helicopter of a dandelion. The seed garners strength from the mother plant (or is it the father plant? or both?) and forms a fruit around itself. This fruit develops into a hard, outer shell, with a distinctive rough cap along the top, where it is firmly attached to the tree. In time, however, the seed is sent forth. It falls not far from the tree, but it is picked up by a squirrel and carried off to be consumed later.
But this seed is forgotten.
The squirrel, acting as an unwitting partner to the tree, places the acorn in exactly the right location, in exactly the right conditions, for germination.
Germination. What an amazing word!
Following a period we foolishly call dormant, the seed splits. A tiny, white, tendril seeks the warm, moist earth below. It does not matter if the tendril opens on the top of the acorn - such things are minor. The seed knows. Although, how it knows is anyone's guess. Are seeds sentient? Regardless, the seeking tendril finds the soil and anchors itself.
Once the root is begun - for root this is - the seed sends forth another tendril. This one, however, is NOT white. It is yellow-green, and it's purpose is not to seek the soil, but to seek the light. As the root pushes deeper and deeper into the soil this yellow-green stalk shoots upward looking for air and warmth and sunshine, and turning darker green as it grows. The stalk has, at its end, two small buds. These buds will form the first leaves of the plant. They are rounded and malformed, compared to the eventual shape of the plant's true leaves. But these leaves are critical, providing the energy necessary for continued root establishment and future leaf growth.
The roots gather essential minerals and nutrients from the soil. These elements, along with needed moisture, combine with the energy garnered from the sun through various complicated chemical processes, to initiate further and continued growth. There is a very specific balance of light, warmth, water, and nutrients that are required to make this happen. Otherwise, growth is stunted or fails altogether.
The miracle is that it happens at all.
This seed continues to grow. It sends forth leaves, now the true, multi-lobed oak leaves that we are familiar with. The leaves are pink and tender at first, but then gradually deepen into a glossy deep green. Several seasons pass, and the tree continues to grow. Cycles of growth and dormancy provide strength to the tree, as do buffets from winds both gentle and harsh. The tree grows in size and height, year upon year, adding layer upon minuscule layer to its girth. Several hundred years later, this tree continues to grow, and now this tree also sends forth seeds into the world, sprouting themselves from beneath its mighty branches. The tree anchored firmly and deeply into soil, stands firm and immovable.
But that's not really it, either, is it?
It doesn't start with a seed, for even the seed had it's beginning somewhere. In the process known as reproduction, two halves come together to make a whole. And what a whole! The potential for greatness lies within.
As the newly formed organism begins to grow - dividing, multiplying, becoming - the seed takes shape. This particular seed is an acorn, but it may also be a kernel of wheat, or the stone of a peach, or the helicopter of a dandelion. The seed garners strength from the mother plant (or is it the father plant? or both?) and forms a fruit around itself. This fruit develops into a hard, outer shell, with a distinctive rough cap along the top, where it is firmly attached to the tree. In time, however, the seed is sent forth. It falls not far from the tree, but it is picked up by a squirrel and carried off to be consumed later.
But this seed is forgotten.
The squirrel, acting as an unwitting partner to the tree, places the acorn in exactly the right location, in exactly the right conditions, for germination.
Germination. What an amazing word!
Following a period we foolishly call dormant, the seed splits. A tiny, white, tendril seeks the warm, moist earth below. It does not matter if the tendril opens on the top of the acorn - such things are minor. The seed knows. Although, how it knows is anyone's guess. Are seeds sentient? Regardless, the seeking tendril finds the soil and anchors itself.
Once the root is begun - for root this is - the seed sends forth another tendril. This one, however, is NOT white. It is yellow-green, and it's purpose is not to seek the soil, but to seek the light. As the root pushes deeper and deeper into the soil this yellow-green stalk shoots upward looking for air and warmth and sunshine, and turning darker green as it grows. The stalk has, at its end, two small buds. These buds will form the first leaves of the plant. They are rounded and malformed, compared to the eventual shape of the plant's true leaves. But these leaves are critical, providing the energy necessary for continued root establishment and future leaf growth.
The roots gather essential minerals and nutrients from the soil. These elements, along with needed moisture, combine with the energy garnered from the sun through various complicated chemical processes, to initiate further and continued growth. There is a very specific balance of light, warmth, water, and nutrients that are required to make this happen. Otherwise, growth is stunted or fails altogether.
The miracle is that it happens at all.
This seed continues to grow. It sends forth leaves, now the true, multi-lobed oak leaves that we are familiar with. The leaves are pink and tender at first, but then gradually deepen into a glossy deep green. Several seasons pass, and the tree continues to grow. Cycles of growth and dormancy provide strength to the tree, as do buffets from winds both gentle and harsh. The tree grows in size and height, year upon year, adding layer upon minuscule layer to its girth. Several hundred years later, this tree continues to grow, and now this tree also sends forth seeds into the world, sprouting themselves from beneath its mighty branches. The tree anchored firmly and deeply into soil, stands firm and immovable.
Comments