I was driving home after dark the other night and found myself mesmerized by the grasses waving in the lights from the car as I drove up our driveway. I stopped and took a few phone photos to remind me of the moment…and seeds have been on my mind since that day.
The inevitable result of enough rain in the desert is the rush by annual plants like these grasses to develop and set seeds so that, by the time the rains have stopped, the plant can die off knowing that its future as a species has been assured—at least for one more generation.
This is one of the oldest and deepest drives, and it exists in the biology of all living things on planet earth. Our goal is to reproduce ourselves—to live on through our offspring—be they seeds or sons, dynasties or daughters. Many humans also seek to live on in other ways as well, through published books that are passed down from one generation to another, or companies which ensure that names like Ford and Sears remain familiar long after these founding figures have passed from the scene.
Sometimes we help each other along without knowing it. We have a great number of sunflower plants in our yard this year because birds buried seeds from our feeders, presumably storing them against future scarcity, and the summer rains caused those sunflower seeds to sprout. Now, instead of providing food for one bird—who might or might not remember where those seeds were buried—the sunflowers are providing food for multiple birds.
What have you done lately to help others along their journey toward growth, maturation and/or setting seed?
What legacy—biological or otherwise—are you preparing to leave for future generations?
