Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • Today we harvested the quinoa. Before this crop I had no idea you could grow South American quinoa up here in Northern America. Grandma saw me eating a lot of quinoa last Thanksgiving as I was allergic to potatoes at the time, and bought me a packet of quinoa seeds from some store that only love-driven grandmothers must know about.

    And up my quinoa grew, they knew exactly what to do. The plants emitted pheromones and everyone working the garden fell in love with their blooms. Sawdust and lipstick colored flowers. Pinstriped yellow and green stalks, they were the most flamboyant thing in the garden. The corn crops behind the quinoa, usually the tallest and most coveted, wilted with jealousy. And the broccoli went to seed trying so hard to keep up it's shared debut to the family garden.
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.