In one of his journal entries, Henry David Thoreau wrote about stumbling upon a single stalk of corn deep in the woods. It looked out of place there, so far from any cornfield, growing next to a pine tree. And yet it was doing just fine. How did its seed get there? By wind or animal?
I suspect you will soon make a comparable discovery, Capricorn: a blaze of vitality that seems out of its element but is perfectly beautiful. Should you pluck it or engage with it or simply admire it? The freshest part of you knows the answer.