I have developed a kind of silly and pointless –but definitely OCD– habit lately.

Whenever I see a Johnny Jump-Up or a pansy, I can't help myself: I shuffle through the plant, especially if it's particularly leggy, and take the seed pods (not just the ones on the beautiful picture, but the still-green ones that look about to burst as well).

I scout pretty front yards –featuring Violas, natch– where the gardeners are not completely anal and haven't pulled up their happy little blooms yet*, and then go to town like a vole amongst the roses.

I am aware that the next logical step in this progression is that I'll acquire more cats, talk to myself, accumulate a fearsome collection of lace and start wearing baggy sundresses.  Since I already talk to myself out loud, perhaps I really shouldn't have disclosed my seed-stealing habits.  However,I just cannot help myself; even if I know I'm picking the seeds from hybrids and that possibly 90% of my collected seed is going to turn out crummy, there is still some source of odd, syrupy delight in sticking my hand in other people's Violas and dig for those little pregnant-bellied treasures.

I guess we all like the thrill of the chase.

And of course, if the seeds should sprout, you will get more seedling photography than you'll ever know what to do with it.

Oh man.  It's going to be AWESOME.

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*I realize that pansies and Johnny Jump-Ups fade in the summer heat and it's aesthetically pleasing to pull them up and replace them with a summer-hardy annual.  But only the truly cruel can look upon those happy little faces while they are still in the peak of their bloom and immediately think, "Compost pile!"

But that's just me.