How Cyrus grew the perfect sabzeh for Nowruz with his little brass mister

There’s a six-year-old standing at our kitchen windowsill, clutching his beautiful brass plant mister and inspecting a shallow dish of lentils with the concentration of a professional gardener. He’s been checking them every morning, occasionally giving them a gentle prod and wondering why they haven’t yet produced the green lawn he’s expecting.

This is Cyrus, and his responsibilities include keeping the lentils moist, checking for signs of growth and informing me whenever something interesting happens. He’s also discovered that his new plant mister can spray water over a surprisingly generous area, including parts of the kitchen.

I’m trying to encourage his independence, although I occasionally find myself reaching for a tea towel. Cyrus is fond of operating the pump and watching the fine spray settle over the lentils, which means I sometimes have to remind him that they don’t need another shower five minutes after the last one.

Still, it’s lovely seeing him take charge of a family tradition. Instead of watching me prepare the sabzeh, he’s doing much of the work himself, with a little supervision. And for a child growing up between British and Persian cultures, that feels like a good place to start.

A handful of lentils, a little water and a six-year-old who takes his gardening responsibilities very seriously. What could possibly go wrong?

My husband, H, grew up celebrating Nowruz in Iran, where Persian New Year is marked with family gatherings, traditional food and preparations that begin well before the spring equinox. Our celebrations in Newcastle are smaller, but we’re keen for Cyrus to experience the customs that were part of his dad’s childhood.

One of those traditions is growing sabzeh, the green shoots displayed on the haft-sin table. Families traditionally grow lentils, wheat or other seeds in shallow dishes, allowing them to develop into a thick patch of greenery that symbolises renewal, growth and the arrival of spring.

I like this custom because it’s something children can get involved in rather than just hear about. There’s no complicated equipment involved, and the results are visible within days. For Cyrus, who is naturally curious about how things work, growing his own sabzeh has become an absorbing little project.

It also gives us an opportunity to talk about his Persian heritage while we’re doing something together. We can explain why we grow the lentils, what they represent and how families in Iran prepare for Nowruz. Cyrus might not remember every detail, but he understands that the little green shoots are important.

And judging by the attention he’s giving them, he’s determined to make sure ours are the finest lentils in Newcastle upon Tyne.

Our sabzeh experiment begins with a bowl of dried lentils and a little patience, which is not necessarily something six-year-olds possess.

We start by soaking the lentils in water overnight. Cyrus helps pour them into the bowl and watches as I add enough water to cover them. He seems slightly disappointed that nothing happens immediately, but I explain that they need time to absorb the moisture before they can begin growing.

The following day, we drain and rinse the lentils before spreading them across a shallow dish. Cyrus helps arrange them, attempting to distribute them evenly rather than leaving one enormous pile in the middle. It’s a fiddly job, and a few inevitably escape onto the worktop, but he takes his responsibilities seriously.

We cover the seeds with a damp cloth and leave them somewhere warm while they begin to germinate. Cyrus checks the dish regularly, lifting the cloth to see whether anything has changed. At first, there’s very little to report, which he finds mildly disappointing.

I explain that growing plants involves waiting, and that the lentils won’t sprout just because he keeps looking at them. He appears unconvinced, but eventually agrees to leave them alone, although I suspect he’d happily sit beside the dish all afternoon if he thought it would make the process any quicker.

Once the lentils begin germinating, Cyrus is delighted to discover that he has a proper gardening tool to help care for them.

We’re using the Kikkerland CD508 Brass Plant Mister, a vintage-inspired watering accessory made from 100% brass, with a polished finish and a traditional pump mechanism. It measures 14 x 8.4 cm and holds up to 300 ml of water, making it a compact but surprisingly generous little mister.

I ike its appearance. It looks as though it belongs in a Victorian greenhouse, perhaps alongside a collection of exotic ferns and someone who knows considerably more about gardening than I do. The polished brass looks lovely on our kitchen windowsill, especially beside the little dish of developing sabzeh.

The mister is designed for moisture-loving indoor plants, producing a gentle spray that can help hydrate delicate foliage. It can also be used to freshen leaves and help remove dust, although Cyrus has shown absolutely no interest in that application. He’s far more interested in the pump and what happens when he presses it.

With the mister filled, he positions himself beside the lentils and carefully aims the nozzle towards the dish. He presses the pump and watches the spray settle over the lentils, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. It’s a little job, but giving him his own gardening equipment seems to make the whole activity feel more important.

Every morning, Cyrus heads to the windowsill to inspect his lentils. He lifts the cloth carefully while they’re germinating, checks whether the seeds are still moist and looks for any signs of tiny white roots appearing. He’s fascinated by the changes, however small, and seems to regard each new development as something that requires immediate family attention.

At first, he seems to think the mister is the answer to everything. If the lentils haven’t grown, maybe they just need more water. If they look exactly the same as yesterday, perhaps another spray will encourage them. And if a little water is good, surely a lot must be better.

I explain that the lentils need moisture, warmth and time, but that too much water can cause problems. We check the dampness together before deciding whether the lentils need another misting, and I encourage him to use the pump gently rather than giving the entire dish a thorough soaking.

As the first roots appear, Cyrus becomes even more interested. He leans over the dish, examining the little white threads and trying to work out which seeds are growing fastest. He notices that some have sprouted before others, which leads to several questions about why they aren’t all behaving in exactly the same way.

I don’t have an answer for every question, but that’s part of the fun of doing these activities with children. We can observe what’s happening together and admit that nature doesn’t always follow our preferred timetable. Once the green shoots begin to appear, we remove the damp cloth and move the dish into a bright spot away from strong direct sunlight. Cyrus continues checking the sabzeh each morning, using his mister when the growing medium needs moisture and taking care not to flatten the delicate shoots.

He’s also learning that the mister works best when he aims it towards the plants rather than spraying enthusiastically from several feet away. It’s a useful lesson, particularly for the person responsible for wiping down the windowsill afterwards.

Within days, the little shoots begin growing taller, gradually forming a thick patch of greenery. Cyrus is delighted with the results and takes pride in showing off his work. Our sabzeh is beginning to resemble a miniature lawn, and its six-year-old gardener is rather pleased with himself.

After watching Cyrus use the Kikkerland mister throughout our sabzeh preparations, I can see why it’s proved such a popular addition to our little gardening project.

The first advantage is its size. At 14 x 8.4 cm, it’s compact enough to sit beside the dish without taking over the windowsill. The 300 ml reservoir also means we don’t need to refill it constantly, although Cyrus is capable of using rather more water than the lentils require if left to his own devices.

The traditional pump mechanism is another attraction. It allows him to direct a fine spray towards the seeds rather than pouring water over them from a jug, which is particularly useful while they’re germinating. The amount of water still needs supervising, but it gives him a manageable way to participate in caring for the plants.

I also appreciate the design. Made from brass, the mister has a polished, vintage appearance that makes it an attractive accessory to leave on display. It’s the sort of thing that would make a lovely present for someone who enjoys indoor gardening, particularly if they appreciate practical objects with a little character.

There are limitations, however. The brass construction means it’s a proper household accessory rather than a lightweight children’s toy, so I supervise Cyrus while he’s using it. The pump also requires some coordination, and younger children may need help holding the mister steady while operating it.

It’s worth remembering that the mister isn’t essential for growing sabzeh. A basic spray bottle can keep the seeds moist perfectly well, and the Kikkerland’s appeal lies partly in its decorative design.

But for us, the fact that Cyrus enjoys using it is a genuine advantage. It’s encouraged him to take responsibility for watering the lentils, and he’s learning to judge when they need moisture rather than spraying them whenever the mood takes him. Well, that’s the theory. We’re still working on the practical application.

As Nowruz approaches, our little dish of lentils is looking pretty impressive. What began as a handful of dried lentils has developed into a thick patch of green shoots, and Cyrus is delighted to see the results of his work.

He’s been involved from the beginning, helping soak the lentils, arranging them in the dish, checking for roots and keeping the growing shoots moist. It’s taken patience, regular attention and a fair amount of enthusiasm, but he’s managed to grow something that will become part of our Persian New Year celebrations.

When we place the sabzeh on our haft-sin table, I want him to understand that it isn’t just a decoration. It represents growth and renewal, and it’s a tradition that families have observed for generations. For H, it’s a reminder of celebrating Nowruz in Iran. For Cyrus, it’s something he’s helped create in our Newcastle kitchen.

Growing up with two cultures means there are traditions Cyrus won’t experience in quite the same way as his dad did. We don’t have the same extended family around us, and our celebrations are adapted to fit life in Britain. But we can still grow sabzeh, prepare our haft-sin table and explain why these customs matter. And if a little brass plant mister helps make the experience more enjoyable for a six-year-old, I’m all for it.

The Kikkerland CD508 Brass Plant Mister gets a positive review from our household’s junior gardening department, although Cyrus’s enthusiasm for watering occasionally exceeds the needs of his plants.

From a parent’s perspective, I like that it gives him something useful to do while learning about plant growth and his Persian heritage. It isn’t a toy, so supervision is important, and a cheaper plastic spray bottle could perform much the same task.

But the Kikkerland has charm, and it’s certainly made an impression on our six-year-old reviewer. Would we recommend it? Yes, particularly for indoor plant enthusiasts who appreciate a vintage-style gardening accessory. It’s also a lovely tool to use with children during supervised gardening activities, provided you’re prepared for the occasional overenthusiastic watering session.

For Cyrus, though, I suspect the verdict is simpler. He gets to spray water, grow plants and take charge of something important. What’s not to like?

And if the photographs are anything to go by, Cyrus and his little brass mister have done a wonderful job. Our sabzeh has grown beautifully this year, producing a thick, bright green carpet of shoots that looks rather impressive considering it began as a handful of dried lentils. But what I’ve enjoyed most is watching Cyrus care for his little crop.

I love seeing him so absorbed in something he’s nurtured himself, especially knowing that this simple little gardening project is helping him understand a tradition his dad grew up celebrating in Iran. The Kikkerland mister has earned its place on our windowsill, but it’s Cyrus’s patience, curiosity and sheer delight in watching his sabzeh grow that I’ll remember.

And judging by the look on his face when we put his beautiful green shoots on our haft-sin table, I think he’s rather pleased with himself too.

Have you tried growing plants with your children, or introduced them to family traditions through practical activities? I’d love to hear what your little gardeners enjoy growing, and whether they’re quite as enthusiastic about watering as Cyrus.

Occasional stories, experiments, discoveries and questions from Saffron & Cyrus.