I’m currently in New York, a sweltering hot and humid mass of concrete and steel, glass spikes rising from black top to kiss the turquoise sky heavy with cumulus clouds.
On streets graced with maples, English oaks and city plain trees, there’s an occasional square of brown where the uniform tree pattern is abruptly missing a member. Small patches of curbside earth, dotted between slabs of grey.
Whenever I spot one, a pair of heirloom seeds appear from my pocket and before you can say “What if someone sees?” I am on one knee, two fingers wiggling into the dirt, then the seeds are inserted into the brown and covered up snugly an inch below. Water from my bottle darkens the soil, the dampness activating enzymes in their shells as I pat them fondly from above. And now, they are on their alchemical way to new lives as pumpkins.
It’s a small step, but one that’s deftly taken, greening the streets of Gotham City with fairy-tale beauty and delicious, abundant fruits available for all to admire and for all to enjoy as they grow, and then for a lucky few, to eat freshly cut from curly, twisting vines of Cinderella delight.
Perhaps you’ll be inspired to sow seeds between the cracks in your city?
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