Published: 2026-08-30

Silent Seeds

A short story by Gregory Vinčić
To my grandson if he ever wants to be a farmer. The raven basks in the sun, observing the farmer tending his fields. He wonders why, the farmer never speeks to his plants. How does the plant know what to become and which fruit to bare? All day long the farmer removes weeds and waters the field but never says a word. The ravens thought is disrupted by a little boy running to the farmer. It's his son and he asks his father; — What is this? pointing at a small green plant barely visible in the dirt. The farmer replies, — Those are strawberries. The boy reaches for a leaf, but his father stops him and says — They are not ready yet. His son looks puzzeled and asks — But you said they where berries, when can I eat them? Calmly, like a father would; he explains the plant must first grow and the flowers must bloom. After a while; later in the summer the flowers turn to berries. He pauses and says: — But not always. His son listens but doesn't understand. — Why not? Can't you tell them! I can eat all the berries. His son says, laughing proudly. The farmer smiles and ponders how to explain to the boy. What a silly idea; to tell a flower to turn into a berry. — If I make sure each plant has water and the sun shines enough most of them turn into berries eventually. You will just have to wait. — Wait? for how long? the son replied sadly. — If the sun is shining and you help me tend to the fields; maybe we will have strawberries later this summer. — Later? How much later? The farmer, like his plants, remains silent. He returns to weeding out his fields. He'll learn eventually, the farmer thinks to himself.
I look in dispair how people slowly wither and dry in this great field of programming. Unattended and with no room to grow. I hope this story reaches whomever wants the berries. You can only reap what you grow and you cannot force growth. Seeds and the plants are programmers/people. If tended properly they turn water and energy into fruit. When the fruit is ripe the boy can eat them all.