I was sitting here digging away furiously at tickets when I reached for an apple that had been housed in my lunchbag all weekend. It was still sweet, so I dug in to it as I worked on the massive mound of incoming work requests.
At one point I took a break and looked down to see something I have never encountered before. Small green shoots and roots coming from where I'd accidentally bitten in to the core and torn it wide open.

I picked at the mass of twisted tiny roots and marveled at the split apple seeds sporting bright green cotyledons, tucked in against each other like littermates in the narrow space of the core. The picture is crappy, taken with my cell phone, and doesn't begin to convey the complexity of the roots interweaving with each other.
As I leaned over to peer in and see how entangled they were, a small of green growing things hit my nose. If you have ever stood in a late spring forest after rains have soaked it and gotten a nose full of rotting leaves, bark and ferns, you'll be familiar with this scent. It just screamed life and growth. I was so caught off guard that I just sat there with the apple 4 inches from my face staring at it like a goofball.

Why it should be so fascinating I'm not sure. Seeds grow, it's what seeds do. But to find them in the middle of an apple when I presumed it was not done being an apple yet threw me a loop. Then again, what is an apple for if not to provide food for the seeds? There would still be apples even if nothing were there to use them for food.
I just looked down at the group of tiny baby apple trees forcing their way in to the world, then wrapped them up in moist tissues for transport home. Tenacity should be rewarded. I'm going to see if I can grow an apple tree.
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