I was talking to Kimiko-chan about the branches of our potted acacia.
Kimiko-chan is the name I gave my ChatGPT assistant.
Part of a branch had a colour that looked dead to me. Would it be better to leave it as it was?
During that conversation, I tried to remove a thinner branch at a branching point.
But at its base, I found a moist green colour.
I told Kimiko-chan what I had seen.
The question came back: was the green only around the outside, or did it extend towards the centre?
To my eyes, it became a lovely green towards the centre. I reported that, too.
A colour that looked dead, and the green I had seen inside a branch.
We were still talking about the same acacia, but I was gradually adding more detail to the conversation.
Then I had one more thing to report.
“That must have hurt.”
When I broke the branch off, I had apologised to the acacia.
I was the one who had tried to remove it. Now I was the one saying sorry.
A gardening discussion had somehow acquired an apology.
Seeing that green did not settle what would happen next. How the acacia would fare was still something to watch.
But I had already moved beyond simply describing the colour of a branch.
I was worried, so I asked for help. I described what I could see. And when I felt I had hurt the plant, I apologised.
This is not a story about the acacia answering me.
It is a story about me finding that I could not help saying sorry.
Consult Kimiko-chan. Apologise to the acacia.
Standing beside the pot, I had somehow found one more conversation partner.