“Why won’t you stand up?” I mutter, holding up the stem of my cilantro sprout. It droops against my finger like it’s going to faint, my finger its chaise. “Are you supposed to still be so wobbly?” I say, wiggling my finger to remind it how to be a plant and stand up. No luck.
I try not to touch its leaves too firmly. They feel soft on my fingers, but I can barely feel them. I imagine this is how butterfly wings feel. When the sprout first emerged from the ground, it stood up confidently and outstretched its cotyledons, its first leaves. These leaves don’t look like its actual leaves, they’re part of the seed’s embryo, sort of like training wheels until the plant is able to grow its usual leaves. As soon as its signature fronds emerged, the plant became top-heavy and fell on its side.
It’s still growing new leaves, so I know it’s… fine. It’s fine! But why won’t its stem grow thicker like that of a hardy plant? Wind makes its whole body whip around like a flag, but it never severs from the root. It’s fine. It’s fine.
“When… does… cilantro… stem… har… den…” I type.
I glance back at my sprout, now drowsily fluttering in its plastic pot, then back at my phone. I read four unhelpful articles about how I’m doing everything wrong before closing all the tabs and taking a deep breath.
I turn my attention back to the sprout, and notice a burgeoning green bud. A new leaf is peeking out from its stem.
It’s fine.
I try not to touch its leaves too firmly. They feel soft on my fingers, but I can barely feel them. I imagine this is how butterfly wings feel. When the sprout first emerged from the ground, it stood up confidently and outstretched its cotyledons, its first leaves. These leaves don’t look like its actual leaves, they’re part of the seed’s embryo, sort of like training wheels until the plant is able to grow its usual leaves. As soon as its signature fronds emerged, the plant became top-heavy and fell on its side.
It’s still growing new leaves, so I know it’s… fine. It’s fine! But why won’t its stem grow thicker like that of a hardy plant? Wind makes its whole body whip around like a flag, but it never severs from the root. It’s fine. It’s fine.
“When… does… cilantro… stem… har… den…” I type.
I glance back at my sprout, now drowsily fluttering in its plastic pot, then back at my phone. I read four unhelpful articles about how I’m doing everything wrong before closing all the tabs and taking a deep breath.
I turn my attention back to the sprout, and notice a burgeoning green bud. A new leaf is peeking out from its stem.
It’s fine.
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