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A most peculiar tree

A bonsai, for the benefit of those who are strangers to specialized gardening, is a dwarf ornamental tree or shrub, grown in a small shallow pot by selective pruning. The art of growing bonsai was discovered and perfected in Japan. A true grower would choose a suitable tree at seedling stage and undertake the delicate process of stunting it to the desired size, which ideally would not be more than about twelve inches tall, if tall is the word. For anyone who is too lazy to prune his own trees, seeds can be bought at specialized stores or garden centres.
The process of germinating the seed of a bonsai tree is long and arduous. The specially prepared soil should include some chicken manure, the seeds should be planted in a shallow tray, and the tray covered with brown paper to keep out the light. The whole thing should then be placed in a refrigerator, where it must remain for three months. (That last bit makes sense; any living thing, whether animal or vegetable, that is shut in a refrigerator for three months is bound to come out of it stunted.)
Some years ago, a friend who had just returned from a trip abroad presented me with a packet of mixed bonsai seeds, on the understanding that after the bonsai had been cultivated I would give him two of the full grown trees.
At the end of the three months, during which I watered the germinating seeds at the prescribed intervals, I lifted the tray out of the refrigerator, removed the brown paper, and was rewarded with the sight of several seedlings that looked quite healthy. Now all I had to do was to sit back and watch the bonsai trees grow.
When telling this story in company I usually enjoy keeping my audience in suspense as they wait for the denouement, but we don’t have time for that here today, so I will make the story as short as, well, a bonsai tree.
A few days after the tray was taken out of the refrigerator, the nature and character of the seedlings became unmistakable. They were of the species of edible vegetable known as "water leaf", what the Yoruba call gbure. The chickens that produced the manure I had mixed with the soil had been gorging themselves with gbure seeds, and the end result (if I may use the expression) was a soil enriched with gbure seeds. Of the much desired bonsai seedlings there was not a trace.
I kept my promise to the friend who had given me the packet of seeds. In fact I gave him, not two, but four gbure seedlings. He was not noticeably effusive in expressing his gratitude.