The old grey rabbit lead Nin to a row of clay pots. In each was a single seedling. “This is a nursery, of sorts,” said the rabbit. “The human planted seeds in each and watered them, and now the seeds have sprouted. The earth is especially rich.”

Next the old grey rabbit directed Nin’s attention to a pair of potted plants far off in a corner, practically hidden behind a bench. “Look over there,” he said. The leaves on these plants were wilted, stringy roots crept out from the holes in the bottoms of their pots.

Nin stuck his nose into the closest pot and sniffed the soil. “This one has outgrown its home,” he observed.

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“It hasn’t been transplanted yet,” said the old rabbit. “Ironic, isn’t it? The home that once nursed them now suffocates them. Even a nurturing environment can become stifling.”

“You care for plants quite a lot,” said Nin. “It is admirable.”

The old grey rabbit turned slightly. He had a far off look in his eyes. “In a previous life I was a dandelion,” he said.

“I see,” said Nin, but he didn’t really understand what the old rabbit meant.

Some time later when Nin returned to the garden, he saw that a storm had knocked over and broken a number of the clay pots. One of the plants had died, but the others—the others had taken root in the earth and were growing quite beautifully. Their roots spread wide.