Sunflower Sprouts

I went back in time with a single leaf last night. The first thing I noticed as I pulled the leaf from its humble stem was the waxy thickness, which I found to be full of healthy moisture. As the first reaches of the plant, this single leaf, seeking sunlight to pull it from the earth, holds the power of new growth. The texture, just below a crunch, was full of water and bursted from the leaf: moist, bitter, a little sour. But as the taste slowly lingered, my mind was not on spring and new growth, instead on the wet leaves and dirt of an autumn ground as well as the unmistakable taste of melted snow. It was as if this ubiquitous plant of summer, in its infancy was focusing all the fallen, decaying leaves and the purity of the cold winter water, which had enabled it to grow. This is a perfect example of terroir, the power of seasons, and the efficiency of earth.