Did I do the work, or the plant make me do that?

Did I noticed the green spot or the tender leaf fetched me? Everything starts with a potato's thirst for life.

The brown potato with dirt on the surface thrive on the kitchen shelf: 'Why not? Why not have dozens of potatoes out of one potato? Right now. Right here.'

 

The memory became fuzzy. Does the sprouting potato awaken my deeply hidden animistic spirit? Or does my grandmother's family garden finally exerts a subtle influence?

 

Since last summer, with one sprouted potato, then emerging with my labor and the potatoes vitality. There are now three-pot soil base potatoes and one water planting potato on my balcony. It is a slow but impressive process to growing with one plant and develop a relationship along the journey.