A child who learns to notice a small plant may begin to notice other things, too. A change in the ground. A friend who has gone quiet. Someone who needs a little help.
For day three of the Cedar and Twig release, we’re meeting Plantain, a small green neighbour growing close to the ground, easily passed over on the way to somewhere else.
Twig certainly passes it over. He is busy being fast, loud and three steps ahead. Then a crack in the path brings his afternoon to a sudden, undignified stop.
Cedar notices something beside him.
What follows is a story about looking closer, discovering strength in an ordinary leaf, and learning kindness through the experience of receiving it. There is dirt to touch, a leaf to investigate, and a familiar path that begins to look different.
That is part of what I hope these books offer children: the pleasure of recognising something they might otherwise have walked past, and the curiosity to crouch down and get to know it.
Below is a little of Cedar and Twig Meet Plantain, the third book in the series.
Come down to ground level with us. Twig is already there, although the landing was not his idea.
Of all the plants I’ve researched, plantain has been one of the biggest surprises. It withstands trampling, shelters the soil beneath its leaves, and feeds birds with its seeds. Those unassuming leaves hold remarkably tough fibres, and the young ones have fed people, too. Plantain also has a long history of care: for generations, people have used its leaves to soothe bites, stings and small scrapes.
Beneath the surface, its roots form partnerships with fungi. Above ground, it can endure frost. Its seeds become sticky when wet, hitching rides on passing feet and fur, and some can remain alive in the soil for decades, waiting for their chance to grow. That is a remarkable collection of abilities for something we barely notice beneath our shoes.
It might be the most overlooked neighbour on the path, quietly contributing while the rest of us step over it. But once you get to know it, you start seeing it everywhere, and an ordinary walk becomes a string of familiar faces.
Children learn care by experiencing it.
Cedar doesn’t tell Twig to stop making a fuss. He crouches beside him and helps. Slowly, Twig’s clenched fingers open.
It’s a small moment with something meaningful inside it: being met with gentleness when we hurt teaches us what gentleness feels like. Before a child knows how to offer that comfort to someone else, they can know what it means to receive it.