When building a house there is an order; the first sign of which is the foundation. Does the architect favor the builder over the electrician?
Does middle age put itself over youth? There is an order and a way, a movement, a progression. The seed starts the plant, consumed by the eater, given back to the earth fertilizing the seed. Are we not happy and blessed to see the sun followed by rain, by more sun?
The seed grows.
How can one express the taste of wine? Could one not do what is needed to convey that wine that is there and help another to taste?
It is these steps, imperfect in themselves which lead to tasting by another. Then breath and heart are joined in one taste, experience of the plant - one rose to another; of the bud to the bush to the stem, all one, connected as a plant to its parts.