Two Pots, Two Ways

On the rooftop, the greenhouse windows caught the morning sun. Ira and Sami set two empty pots on the workbench. The pots looked so alike that, once they were filled, nobody would know whose was whose.

Ira painted a white star on hers. Sami chose one round white dot. ‘Mine will be easy to draw,’ he said.

Ira counted the points of her star and grinned. They put the pots side by side with their marks facing the room. Outside, the city was already busy. Inside, two small growing places were waiting to begin.

They filled each pot with loose soil, leaving room below the rim for water. Ira made a little hollow with her finger. Sami did the same. One seed went into the star pot and one into the dot pot.

They covered them gently, then gave the soil a small drink. Water darkened the surface without making a puddle.

‘Which will come up first?’ Ira asked.

Sami looked at the two quiet circles of earth. Nothing on top could tell them yet. He set the watering can aside. ‘We’d better write down when we planted them, or we’ll forget how long we’ve waited.’

Their notebook had plenty of blank paper. On one page Ira drew a star pot. On the facing page Sami drew a dot pot. They added the date and a little picture of the watering can.

The next morning, both pots looked just as they had before. Ira leaned close. Sami looked from the other side. No green tips.

They checked the soil before reaching for the can. It was still damp, so they left it alone. In the notebook they drew two bare circles of earth. A day with nothing new above the soil was still a day they had noticed.

Several mornings later, Sami found a green hook rising from the dot pot. He called Ira before touching anything. Together they watched the tiny stem holding up its first folded leaves.

Ira smiled, then looked quickly at her own pot. The star still faced the room, but the soil above it looked empty.

‘Yours has started,’ she said.

‘Something has started showing,’ Sami replied, studying the little hook. They drew it carefully in the notebook. Ira’s pencil hovered over her page. She wanted something green to put there too. For now, she drew the soil exactly as she could see it.

Ira put her hands around the star pot. Perhaps it should stand nearer the window. Perhaps farther away. Perhaps she should dig down and see whether her seed was doing anything at all.

Then she remembered how carefully they had tucked it in. Digging could disturb something too small to see. She let go and checked what she could check: enough light, damp soil, an open drainage hole beneath.

Nothing obvious needed changing. Sami brought the notebook, not the watering can. They sat beside the bench and compared yesterday’s drawing with today’s. Waiting felt easier when it had something to do besides worry.

One morning Ira found a crack in the soil. Through it came a tiny bent shoot, pale green and still folded over. She called Sami so loudly that her voice bounced off the greenhouse glass.

‘It’s here!’

They leaned close without brushing the new stem. Sami’s plant had broader leaves now, but Ira did not want to look at those just yet. She wanted to see every bit of her little bent greeting.

In the notebook she finally added green to the star pot’s page. She did not draw it straight. Bent was how it had arrived.

As days passed, the bent shoot began to straighten. Its leaves stayed narrow. The dot pot’s leaves spread wider, making small shadows on the soil.

Sami started to draw both plants with the same leaf shape, then looked again. He rubbed out one line. Ira moved her notebook beside the pots so they could compare drawing and plant together.

They counted visible leaves, noticed their edges, and marked the days when a new one opened. The pages no longer looked like copies of each other. Ira liked finding a difference that yesterday’s drawing had missed. There was plenty to record in both pots.

The weather grew warmer. One afternoon the dot pot’s soil felt dry near the surface, while the star pot still held some moisture. Sami lifted the watering can, then paused.

‘We don’t have to give them the same drink just because they’re side by side.’

Ira checked carefully too. They watered where it was needed, slowly around the roots, and stopped before water pooled on top. Then Ira noticed her taller stem leaning. More water would not hold it upright. They needed another kind of help. On the shelf lay the old measuring stick they had used to record its height.

Ira placed the measuring stick carefully beside the slender stem, away from its base. With a soft tie she gave the stem support without pulling it tight against the wood. She could still slip a finger into the loop.

Sami steadied the pot while she worked. When she took her hands away, the plant stood comfortably, its leaves free to move. The broader plant needed no stick at all.

They drew that difference too: one support, one open space. Ira washed the soil from her fingers. Their little garden had become more interesting than the race she had imagined on planting day.

Weeks after planting, they opened the notebook at the beginning. There were the two bare pots, then one green hook, then another. Later pages held wide leaves, narrow leaves, dry days, damp days, and the first small support.

‘Which grew first?’ Sami asked.

‘The dot pot,’ Ira said. ‘But look how much happened after that.’

They set the notebook beside the living plants and opened to a fresh pair of pages. Ira drew a star. Sami drew a dot. Neither page was finished, and neither plant had to follow the other’s drawing. Tomorrow they would look again. The end.