The Seed

Or, Maturity

The seed was ready.

For months, it had lurked underground, doing nothing.

It was good to do nothing. Especially when you’re a dormant seed, and can’t do very much anyway. But even if it had tried to do something, maybe the result would have been bad. Maybe it would have ended up at the surface during the hard winter months and someone would have eaten it. Or maybe it would have gone so deep into the earth that it would never have found its way back up again. Anything could happen to a dormant seed.

No, it was much better to stay still and do nothing. At least for the moment. Good things come to those who wait.

And so the seed had waited. It had gotten very cold at one point, and the seed was glad to be dormant and not require any energy input. There was no need to rush things. “If it’s cold, stay dormant,” was what the other plants had said, and the seed saw no reason to ignore their advice. They had made it to planthood, so they must know what they were talking about.

One month of cold had gone by, then two, then three. The seed had started to decide that the winter would, in fact, last forever, when suddenly the temperatures rose. Very slightly, but still. The seed held its figurative breath and sure enough, a few days later the ground had warmed up significantly. The soil was damp from the melting snow, the sun was warming up the surface, and the seed felt the time was right. It drank up as much water as possible, allowed its cells to expand in the refreshing moisture, and pushed out a radicule.

The little root wavered cautiously through the earth, looking for where the soil was wettest. Then the seed, drawing nutrients from its storage structures, started to replicate its cells.

Each cell divided in two, then in two again. Groups of cells started forming tissues and organs that got bigger and bigger, gradually opening its seed coat and taking it off in the warm spring soil.

More roots followed, then a tentative stem that grew stronger and steadier as it peeked out the top of the ground and saw that, for now, it was safe. Then a leaf, then another one, and more and more and more as the shoot thrust itself into the open air, basking in the vast amounts of sun and carbon dioxide it was meeting for the first time.

The seed took a deep breath and thought proudly, as every young organism since the dawn of time has thought to itself when it takes its first step towards maturity:

“I’m not a seed now anymore. I’m a plant.”