Now that you've eaten your fill of hikers and lost federal agents, and Gwodder's come back to your roots as well, you're done with the hard work of the year. Now it's time to rest, reflect, and grow next year's Gwodder.
When your last leaf falls, new life begins. A single cell inside of you divides, and the plant consciousness that will eventually support Gwodder's human-emulating subconsciousness takes its first planty thought, and that thought is: GROW.
And so hundreds of tiny brains begin forming up and down your branches, kept warm against the elements by all that hiker blood. And you enter a dreamlike trance as you begin to instruct and interrogate each of them in turn, zealously aborting those that don't satisfy your standards, becoming more and more cautious as you narrow the field of choice.
As the countryside is blanketed in snow, you narrow it down to seven human simulations, one of which you will imbue with consciousness in the Spring, after they've been aged correctly. An exciting time, Winter.