A few weeks ago, I walked into our new apartment for the first time. The management company had left us a kind note and a Welcome Basket of odds and ends to make our first few days go more smoothly.  Small bottles of laundry soap, dishwashing detergent, and an apartment-branded coffee mug were nestled alongside a small white pot containing a packet of basil seeds. If you know me even marginally well, you won’t be surprised to read that I shoved the more practical items aside in favor of the white pot and basil seeds.  Looking around at our space filled with boxes and a mountain of things that needed doing, I did the most logical thing I could think of… I walked outside and scooped some of the sandy soil next to the parking lot into my small white pot.  Inside, I sprinkled a few of the seeds onto the dirt, gently stirred it around the surface, added water and immediately felt better about our new address.  Days went by, boxes were unpacked, and I had time and bandwidth to grab a bag of Miracle Gro and a slightly bigger pot during one of my big box stock-up runs. By now, a few of the seeds had sprouted in the white pot. My green thumb felt smug.  Realizing I might have been a bit too ambitious about how many seeds could grow in the small white pot, I plucked a few of the sprouts and transplanted them into the larger blue one that I’d filled with Miracle Gro.  Before long, my newly transplanted sprouts seemed to be surviving, perhaps even starting to thrive.  Last night, I arrived back at the apartment after a week on the road. Parking my suitcase, I immediately slid open the patio door to let in some fresh air. My eyes drifted to the table, and I was thrilled to see a thriving pot of future Caprese salad greens that had been happily inching upward during my absence. Next to it sat the small white pot of seed sprouts, looking nearly identical to the way it had when I had left town and given it a splash of water and a pep talk of well wishes for the days I’d be away.  Inadvertently, I had created a science experiment and a stark metaphor. Sandy soil not well matched to the type of plant = stunted growth. Rich, high-quality dirt aligned with the plant’s needs = thriving growth.  While incredibly simple in design, my pots of basil have given us a perfect leadership metaphor. In what kiind of dirt are you planted? Rushed, sandy, and nutrient-starved? Intentional, complex, fertilizer-rich? Both yield sprouts; only one yields long term growth. What might good "dirt" look like for you? And are you making sure to plant yourself into it?