No, don't eat those tomatoes!
The grasses next to them were waxy green. The kind that you would make whistle out of. Thick grass.
We had other mushrooms too. They grew on the stick. They had ruffled edges, like pretty little pastries.
There were brown, crinkly leaves lying on the floor of our quadrant.
An ant scurried over them.
A slug slowly shifted from on edge to another. Its slimy body curling with every move.
The shadows danced on our quadrat. The sun warmed certain spots.
Our quadrant was bright, and dull. Alive, and dead. Smooth, and rough.
The paradoxes abundant. Creating the space. It's own rich and robust little ecosystem.
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