How this system is put together: system architecture, business architecture, knowledge architecture. Each post says why a part is designed that way, and what it costs.
You say one sentence — “sowed pak choi on 16 October” — and we hand back a list of dated tasks. This is where those dates come from: which part is a skeleton derived from the variety, which part the weather and your situation push around, and which few we never change automatically.
Memory is not a chat log. For each planting we keep one sentence of conclusion: the constraints you stated (south-facing balcony, no sprays at home) stay, small talk does not. This is what we keep, how we work out *which* planting it belongs to, and how you correct us.
Ask “which pesticide and at what dilution” and we will not hand you a recipe; ask “is this downy mildew in the photo” and we will not decide for you. This is the list of things we do not do, and why those lines do not move.
One sentence from you and we can change your schedule. But the only things we change are tasks you have not done yet; anything finished, skipped, postponed or backfilled is off limits. This is what we remember, what we dare to touch, and how a change is undone.
We do not start from scratch every time. We look at the weather, check whether anything new happened, then — only then — decide what to change, run the change past a set of checks, and finally apply it and tell you. That order is what decides when we do nothing.
We can answer “why are the leaves yellow” not because we memorised anything, but because we can find the passage every time. When we cannot, we say so — which is more useful than three extra sentences that sound expert.