I was out on the stateroom veranda editing my SciFi novel, Silversides, when to my delight I looked out to see our ship being passed by legions of seeds— these mariners with their sails full of wind, gliding just above the waves, some rising above the ship as I wondered what land they will settle upon and take root.

Then out of nowhere a seed eddied in next to me— stopping chest high— each of us inspecting the other. And as if by invitation, I cupped my hands gently around it and moved inside, shutting the slider with my elbow.

I was half expecting it to take flight and slowly opened my hands and marveled as it rose, dancing slightly above my palm to the vibrations it could only feel, as if it were lighter than air itself.

The thrill it gave me was a reminder of Phragmites Seeds being released in the NE US every November— the catalyst behind my popular SciFi thriller, November Seed.

With nothing but ocean (and time) around me, I grabbed the GPS coordinates from my watch and plugged them into a reverse geocode tool (yeah.. everyone has got one of those, right?) .

This gave me our exact location— just south of the Mahia Peninsula.

With limited bandwidth, identifying the exact species would take some time. I do remember seeing a variety of milkweed in the gardens of the treaty house in the Bay Of Islands, which was in bloom and suspect it is of the same.

It’s all about catch and release, so I pinched it by one strand went out on the veranda, let it go and watched as it hovered briefly before the wind curled its arms around it, ushering it to rejoin the fleet.