Japanese fir

The tiny seeds of Abies veitchii, each a promise of the silver-needled elegance to come, held a stubborn secret. Stratification, a winter’s slumber in the cold embrace of damp vermiculite, was the key, unlocking their potential after months of patient waiting. Germination, a hesitant unfurling of emerald fronds, felt like a whispered victory, each fragile seedling a testament to persistence against the odds. The scent of pine, faint at first, grew stronger with each passing week, a fragrant reward for the gardener’s dedication, a whisper of the majestic fir awaiting its time to grace the landscape.