The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn.   – Emerson

This week I’ve been thinking a lot about compounding, and how poorly equipped our little human brains are to appreciate it. Partly it’s the geometric math that’s involved, sometimes it’s a stretched-out time horizon, and occasionally it’s a misplaced “bird in the hand” mindset that pushes us toward more immediate rewards. Whatever the reasons, compound effects tend to sneak up on us.

On Monday I noticed that a stock I’d owned for a long time, one that was never a headlines-grabbing winner, had slowly accrued to be a top performer. On Tuesday I met some longtime friends for lunch, where all of our conversations about nothing in particular have formed decades-long, deep ride-or-die loyalties. On Friday I strolled through the stunning autumn display of Boston’s Public Garden, where today’s visitors are enjoying the decisions made by strangers, centuries before us.

Any of these compounders could have taken another turn. The initial decisions might have been deferred, or the ongoing growth could have been interrupted. Yet what strikes me is the relative ease of each stage: a modest initial effort, with even more modest upkeep over time, leading to tremendous rewards.

So, dear friends, this weekend, I’m planting daffodils, and acorns.

Imagine the landscape to come.