The idea that you can have a potential garden in a paper envelope blows my mind. It is not a garden–yet. Can you get any more life-affirming than that? I remember little baggies bursting with the promise of tiny sweet carrots from the window sill (miraculous!!), or carefully tended, never-quite mature cucumbers or flowers. And then there was the unseemly brown paste spread unimpressively onto the skin of a what infomercial-soaked Americans call “Chia pets”, but what i remember as an unbranded clay piggie… sure, it started off a bit gross, all those slimey watercress seeds on a sad, vaguely pig-like thing, but after only a few days it sprouted the most luscious coat of green fur you ever saw–soon to be harvested and proudly eaten on a cream-cheese sandwich, impossibly delicious not just because of the delicate flavor but because of the miracle of its very existence… what had turned that brown mud into this delicous food?
