Learning to start slow and stay steady.
There’s something special about starting a fresh batch of micros each week. By now, this rhythm feels like a quiet ritual I look forward to each morning. It helps me feel more grounded and gives me a sense of momentum.
This week’s seeds felt different from the last two batches right from the start. Both Curled Cress and Red Garnet Amaranth are tiny and delicate, but that’s where the similarities end.
I haven’t grown either of these before. I decide to give them their own containers to honor their unique needs. Amaranth can handle more water, while the cress asks for gentleness.
Curled Cress comes with a particular set of instructions:
-give them just enough to begin
-don’t overwater
-mist gently
Curled cress is one of those mucilaginous seeds—the kind that forms a gel when wet (think chia). It’s clever, really—the seeds create a natural built-in shield to hold moisture close.
This is super cool and interesting, but it also means I can’t just toss the seeds into soil, water them, and expect microgreens.
Cress asks for more attention, more intention, and more restraint.
That got me thinking…
I started to realize that mucilaginous seeds kind of remind me of my sparkly ADHD brain—and some of the habits I’m working on.
When something sparks my interest, I want to soak in every bit of it. Sometimes that’s great—I find something amazing that I love and excel at.
But often, I overwater the whole idea before it even has a chance to take root. I want to buy all the supplies, watch all the videos, take the course, make it my new life purpose!!!…
And then, when the excitement dries up, I’m left with a soggy, unfinished something. Another project that won’t take root. More forgotten seeds. More mush.
It’s a pattern I’m learning to soften. To work with, instead of against.
Just like cress, real, steady growth needs a gentler approach. Small steps. Patience. Watering with care—not flooding the system.
Mucilaginous seeds won’t tolerate a tidal wave of excitement. They’ll thrive with slow care.
So will I.
Red Garnet Amaranth needs a different kind of careful. The seeds are like specks of glitter, and scattering them evenly takes focus.
I sow them a little thicker than the cress, knowing their delicate stems and leaves will still leave room to breathe once they sprout.
Amaranth doesn’t need soaking or special watering—she’s quite the overachiever.
I cover both containers lightly to keep the moisture in and place them in a warm spot to encourage germination.
I don’t have to wait long for that overachieving Amaranth. By the next morning, I can already see tiny cotyledons peeking through their seed coats, like they’re just waiting for the right moment to break free.
The cress? Just gellin’.
By Wednesday, the Amaranth has sent out fuzzy little tails of soft, white fluff.
The cress—if I look closely—has a few tiny tails peeking out, but most of them? Still gellin’.
As we move into the later part of the week, the Red Garnet Amaranth feels like a celebration in plant form.
Soft and delicate, but undeniably vibrant.
As it grows, it puts on a show. The bright fuchsia heads turn into slender stems dyed in the same vibrant pink. The leaves open with a soft olive-green top and a deep fuchsia underside.
Some have seeds that cling to the leaves like tiny pearls, catching the light and hanging on just a little longer.
The cress takes its time. Each one emerging at its own random pace.
The curly edges peek through—wild—like they’re testing the air, asking if it’s safe to keep going. Safe to be their true, wild self.
And as you can see, i got some amaranth in there by mistake.
Watching them side by side—one bursting into color, the other emerging slowly with challenges—reminds me that growth doesn’t have to look the same to be meaningful.
I might move differently in the world. My path might be more complicated.
But that’s kinda part of being Wild, right?
I get to have more fun!!
Curled cress is said to have a peppery bite—perfect for topping sandwiches or mixing into a simple salad.
Amaranth is mild but stunning, with vibrant pinkish stems that could turn any meal into art.
I’m thinking avocado toast, smoothie bowls, or tucked into a wrap for a pop of color.
Looking back at last week’s microgreens, the purple radish was the star—spicy, juicy, and packed with personality.
I loved it in tacos and pozole—just a little handful added something playful and crisp.
Broccoli was milder, easy to tuck into anything—salads, sandwiches, breakfast bowls.
I’ll definitely grow both again.
Next week I’m poppin’ peas and sunflowers in the soil!
Big seeds, big energy. I can’t wait to see what comes through.
Ooo ooo oooo!
Mandy, Wild & Free 