I have been watering it but still nothing.
Notes: Hasn’t grown or sprouted yet, so all i have is my imagination now:
A small beanstock slowly winds around a poll like a the two parts of a red lickerish stick that twirls together. I imagine the beanstock twirling around like a ballerina. Dancinc his or her’s long hours in that bright ballett studio. The beanstock wraps around anything it could find. It wraps around the tiny peices of grass that sprouts up next to the dirt. The strong beans fall off and jump a round the dirt but a wind storm blows the dirt on top of the beans and burries them for good. And so the cycle goes again. And you may still wonder about the beanstock and all I can tell you is that is above the clouds.