Last year just before Christmas acorns dropped to the ground en masse. What a joy it must have been for all those little squirrels out there. Now, I am no squirrel but I have to admit that I like to collect stuff, and it was logical that I take a few acorns home. Soon they started to germinate and I knew that I had an oldschool project on my hands. Out came the cotton wool and a small glass jar, add water. A root spiraled out of the acorn tip and twisted itself comfortably into the cotton wool guided by the walls of the jar, keep moist. More or less a month later there were the first signs of a sprout, a leaf or two. With great care the baby tree was transplanted into a small pot, add dirt. And now 3 months later I have my own cork oak tree. 25 years from now the first cork will be harvested, then again 9 or 12 years after that, after that, after that...
250 years from now, the little tree now a 20 meter towering mass of branches and its hidden mirror of roots, will die.
Watching things grow is just one way to see time.
250 years from now, the little tree now a 20 meter towering mass of branches and its hidden mirror of roots, will die.
Watching things grow is just one way to see time.
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