Last year just before Christmas acorns dropped to the ground en masse. What a joy it must have been for all those little squirrels out there. Now, I am no squirrel but I have to admit that I like to collect stuff, and it was logical that I take a few acorns home. Soon they started to germinate and I knew that I had an oldschool project on my hands. Out came the cotton wool and a small glass jar, add water. A root spiraled out of the acorn tip and twisted itself comfortably into the cotton wool guided by the walls of the jar, keep moist. More or less a month later there were the first signs of a sprout, a leaf or two. With great care the baby tree was transplanted into a small pot, add dirt. And now 3 months later I have my own cork oak tree. 25 years from now the first cork will be harvested, then again 9 or 12 years after that, after that, after that...
250 years from now, the little tree now a 20 meter towering mass of branches and its hidden mirror of roots, will die.
Watching things grow is just one way to see time.