Behold the tiny but mighty seed. So much promise lies inside, safeguarded by a sturdy exterior and lying in wait for Mother Earth to issue the summons. Seeds have become symbolic of springtime—the advent of working the earth again and sowing seeds within, stitching an invisible quilt that will later spring forth to provide us with nourishment.
Also called rose haws, these reddish-orange orbs that grow abundantly here in midcoast Maine are actually the fruit of the rose plant. Tart, spicy, and teeming with vitamin C, they have long been an important part of the indigenous North American diet and were also the cat’s meow of WWII-era Britain, when nutrient-rich rose hip syrup replaced hard-to-come-by citrus fruits.