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Day turned to night, again and again, and still she waited. Until quietly, gently, orders dormant in the darkness began to stir. Roots hummed downward; shoots stretched upward, each according to its kind, unfurling leaves that reached for the light with a certainty that stunned even the scientists who’d seen it before. As if every seed spoke a stubborn, silent answer to a question not yet asked.
By Randy and Gaelyn Whitley KeithDay turned to night, again and again, and still she waited. Until quietly, gently, orders dormant in the darkness began to stir. Roots hummed downward; shoots stretched upward, each according to its kind, unfurling leaves that reached for the light with a certainty that stunned even the scientists who’d seen it before. As if every seed spoke a stubborn, silent answer to a question not yet asked.