The Neverending Chocolate Bar

Last night I planted chocolate seeds...well, if by last night you mean 3am this morning and if by planting chocolate seeds you mean throwing Nestle semi-sweet mini morsels off your balcony and into the lawn.

After making chocolate-chip pancakes for a breakfast-themed dinner and left with just a handful of morsels packed into a corner of the nearly empty bag, we thought it quite wise to use the remaining chips as seeds...you know, "teach a man to fish" and so forth. We thought it quite sacrificial, too, all four of us imagining those last bits melting on our tongues.

I suppose the thinking was that chocolate will grow on trees, even if the "seeds" are a highly processed mixture of chocolate paste, cocoa powder, and liquid chocolate which hold no capacity whatsoever for germination. Despite such oversight, it was a noble endeavor.

We mused about what the chocolate fruit would look like when ripe for the picking. Would it hang from the flowers of the tree in the same shape as the morsels, tear-dropped like Hershey Kisses? A narrow stem above a heavy base seemed logical, gravitational. We began to get greedy and wondered if MiracleGro would turn the morsels into solid Nestle bars, or better yet, Nestle Crunch bars. Should we sprinkle some krispies into the ground? Should we make our own labels and package them and sell them for a dollar at the CSU? Should we call them "The Neverending Chocolate Bar" (also available in the Krispie variety) and sign contracts that forbid any of us from discolsing our secret chocolate seeds?

Nah. No MiracleGro. No krispies. We only grow organinc.

I can picture the semi-sweet mini morsels now, some still above ground and sprinkled in the grass with no hope of rooting, some flying high in the bellies of birds, some--the smallest--melted away by rain. I remember how silly it felt at the time. We wondered if the trees would grow tall enough to harvest right from my second story balcony.