By breakfast the flowerbed already looked like a very small inn. The garden trowel laid out thimble blankets for crumbs of earth; each crumb greeted the hole, nodded to the seed, and only then drew the cover for exactly one night.
We asked at the kiosk by the park gate. "I wrote it in the thank-you book," the seller said. "If the crumb nods, you may water tomorrow. If it is still saying good night, the can should wait on the step."
The gardener, wiping the blade on a leaf, told us the trick is not depth. "The blankets are only as wide as a polite thumb. I wait until the soil says hello to the hole. After that the seed can sleep without me standing over it."
The next afternoon the same neighbor came back with a second packet and stood long enough to see a crumb bow to a sunflower seed and settle. She left a card by the watering can that read, please keep the last blanket extra soft for beginners.