Myall tree

The hard, recalcitrant seed, a tiny, silver-grey capsule, yields only to the coaxing of sandpaper and time. Each carefully nicked coat whispers a promise of the weeping Myall to come – a cascade of silvery foliage, a fragrant breath of golden bloom. Failure stings, a silent testament to overzealous watering or impatient hands. But success? That first fragile sprout, pushing through the soil, is a triumph, a verdant testament to patience and perseverance. The reward is not merely a plant, but the tangible manifestation of nature’s stubborn resilience, mirrored in the determined heart of the propagator.