expect wonders

"Though I do not believe that a plant will spring up where no seed has been, I have great faith in a seed. Convince me that you have a seed there, and I am prepared to expect wonders." -- Henry David Thoreau

A neglected plot of ground is a sad sight. A glance from my side porch will provide enough weedy profusion to demonstrate this fact. This is the first summer in a long time that I do not have a garden, and I feel it sorely. To slake my garden-thirst and to keep our vegetable bin amply supplied, I make a weekly visit to Martin's Farm. I raided the stand for broccoli, cilantro, summer squash, tomatoes, and swiss chard. With my last vestige of self-dignity, I humbly ask if I can pick my own beans. ( I know all about beans. I usually plant my own beans. I know what bean plants look like. I need beans and I need beans now.)
There are yet a few treasures to be had from my weedy patch in the side yard. Stalks of wispy dill tower over varieties of ragged grass. A dozen sunflower poles have stationed themselves throughout, their lazy and deferential heads bobbing in the sun. Although the parsley bed has bolted, the flowering crown is lovely to behold, and a foraging cook can still find enough leaves to flavor her salad. True, a plant will not spring up where no seed has been. But I, too, have great faith in a seed, especially last year's survivors that have doggedly punched their way into this year's sunshine.
Time will not allow me to wax eloquent on the across-the-board applications of seed. Let's just say that Thoreau was right: Convince me you have a seed there, and I am prepared to expect wonders.