The bonsai trees were thriving. There were three of them in a row, all in differently colored pots. Gnarly, crooked, thriving. Natural. They were his little side project, a lesson in humility. They could not grow too big, because bonsai trees should not grow too big. Their beauty was in their slight stature. This was the opposite of what Barclay usually wanted to achieve with his trees. A ceder, a juniper and a Japanese rose. Barclay convinced them to grow like this, not using the aid of metal wire or trimming. Perfect miniature trees,
The whispers of all of his plants surrounded him as he moved through the part of the top floor he had remodeled to be his greenhouse. Sunlight was streaming in through the tall windows and the glass ceiling. It was always hot and humid in here, but Barclay hardly felt that. Everything here was vibrant and alive, the air thick with the smell of wood, grass and leaves.
It was not perfect, but an urban druid had to make do.
He went through his drying rack, pulled out the top glass plate and collected a handful of spores in his bare hand. He could feel the power in there, right in his hand. He grinned. Time for a little test.
Barclay went to the open space by the door. He crouched on the bare floor boards and blew, spreading the spores over the wooden planks. That's when he heard someone knock. "Come on in."