These tiny things are basil seeds.
Last year, in my garden, a seed just like this grew into a plant that was four feet tall. Its lush leaves turned into salads and pesto, seasoned sauces and garnished plates. When I finally stopped pinching its blooms to force it to fill out, and let it flower, its delicate blossoms so entranced the bees they attracted that they bumbled in a pleasant drunken dance, seeming oblivious to distractions, like falling water from a hose, or people sitting on a patio just inches away.
On a hot day, sweet basil scented my entire yard.
These are open-pollinated seeds from that plant. I don't know whether they'll breed true. I had other varieties of basil in my garden.
But I've planted eighteen of them anyway, in a recycled egg carton.
We'll see what they become.