From Seed To Sprout
Author's Note: Originally published on February 17, 2011
I stared fondly at my dirt-covered fingers, laughing quietly to myself as I remembered my mother's exasperation upon discovering my passion for nature. The first spells I learned were the cleansing charms she'd frequently use to clean the soil from my hands, face, and robes.
I spent hours in our garden, captivated by the uniqueness of each stalk of grass, each budding plant. I would dig and examine everything, my curiosity knowing no bounds. It was such a thing of beauty to see the morning sun illuminating the dew-covered petals of a brightly coloured flower, or to marvel at a delicate new shoot just peeking out from the ground.
As I got older and started growing my own little shrubs and flora, I gained a much deeper understanding and appreciation for these wonders. It was so profoundly fulfilling to care for these plants, to watch them slowly grow from just a seed. Some lived merely a season, as much as it pained me—a brief but brilliant existence which always left a mark on me—while there were others I was able to cultivate for years, decades even, each one holding a place in my heart as any loved one would.
They were incredible to me, not only for their beauty and distinctiveness, but for their practicality. They gave us so many things besides something pretty to admire—their scents, which could be delightful or dreadful, and their use in all sorts of potions and elixirs. Truly amazing they were, and my enthusiasm and love was constantly renewed by the promise of discovering something new.
This passion of mine translated well to my studies of the subject, and in due time, I found myself teaching this topic that I loved. It became apparent to me that the students, in most cases that is, were drawn to the more dynamic classes like defence or flying. But every so often, a child would come along who really understood why I loved Herbology. Those were the ones I cherished the most throughout my career.
I heard a noise behind me, breaking me out of my thoughts.
"Ah, Pomona, I hate to interrupt. How is our friend coming along?"
I glanced at the densely-packed corner of the greenhouse and nodded at the Headmaster.
"Almost ready, Albus. I'll have the Devil's Snare in place a few days before the children arrive."
"Excellent! The preparations are nearly complete. I have a feeling that we'll have a good crop of new students this year," he stated with chuckle, that usual twinkle in his eye. "I'll leave you to it."
As I turned back to the soil, my mind flooded with thoughts of protecting magical stones and the new school term ahead, a seed of hope blossomed. Perhaps this year I would be lucky enough to teach that rare student who shared my love and passion for growing, one who would allow me to help nurture them as well, just as I would one of my precious blooms.