Planted cacao in the mill yard.

Not a farm. Not an estate. Just a small patch of ground we could claim.

It had been raining through the morning. The first showers came early this year. The soil was already loose, dark, holding water.

A few saplings, still figuring themselves out. Soft leaves, thin stems. Nothing about them suggests chocolate yet.

They sit among older trees that already know what they’re doing. Cashew, mango, jackfruit. A rambutan tree off to the side. Lime, a pink jamun, a few banana plants pushing through where they can.

Different rhythms. Different timelines.

We dug in anyway. Made space. Placed them one by one.

It wasn’t practical. Not really. More of a marker than anything else. A way to say: this is where it begins.

Watered them, even though the rain had already done most of the work. Stood around for a bit. Looked at them longer than necessary.

Strange place to start.

Before fermentation. Before roasting. Before anything that feels like control.

Just soil, time, and a bit of attention.

No idea how they’ll grow. Or if they will.

But they’re in the ground now.

That counts.