Elias treated the patch like a pet. A sprinkle every morning. No more. He watched the true leaves appear—rough, lobed, nothing like the first soft cotyledons. They grew bold. Defiant. Within a month, they were knee-high, a thicket of wild, crinkled green.
He plucked the weakest, his big, calloused hands suddenly careful. He left the strongest standing like tiny green soldiers. how to grow mustard from seed
“Mustard,” he said, spreading it on a pretzel. He took a bite. His eyes watered. His sinuses cleared. His heart swelled. Elias treated the patch like a pet
But he did.
“Kill the ones I grew?” he asked, horrified. they were knee-high
“It’s not murder,” she said. “It’s focus.”