Although we’ve become a bit inured to timelapses over years of seeing so many online, Boxlapse Films‘ films of seeds bursting through the soil are so wildly expressive, we found ourselves watching with a big grin on our face. Kidney bean, radish, tomato, broccoli, barley, garden cress — the vegetables we consume daily, not realizing their secret life — emerge from the soil as though dancing, lifting their faces and opening “arms” gracefully toward the sun, in pure joy. What we’re watching is the life force in action.
Which is what it makes us feel..
Despite all hell breaking loose, seeds are impelled to grow…
It reminded us of this revelatory bit from Hope Jahren’s Lab Girl:
A seed knows how to wait. Most seeds wait for at least a year before starting to grow; a cherry seed can wait for a hundred years with no problem. What exactly each seed is waiting for is known only to that seed. Some unique trigger-combination of temperature-moisture-light and many other things is required to convince a seed to jump off the deep end and take its chance—to take its one and only chance to grow.
Each beginning is the end of a waiting. We are each given exactly one chance to be. Each of us is both impossible and inevitable. Every replete tree was first a seed that waited.
We especially love this tender ballet of wild strawberries…
Then this Mary Oliver poem jumped into our hands, as though hearing what we were feeling as the bright new life dispelled our anxieties…
I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?
Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?
Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
via Laughing Squid