Lost in the weeds

Charles M.  Schulz, the creator of the beloved 'Peanuts,' must have been a gardener for only a gardener could have so accurately illustrated the anxiety Snoopy felt when suddenly found in a patch of grassy weeds. There is nothing more terrifying to round the corner of a forgotten area of the garden only to witness the sudden dispersal of hundreds of winged weed-seeds at the mere suggestion of wind.

(Buttercup's Gardening Rule Number One: No Weed Shall Go to Seed.)






Weeding is to gardening what vacuuming is to housecleaning: it is only noticed when not done. And, just as there are those who embrace vacuuming and those who are averse to it, gardeners are divided into weeders and non-weeders. I am, and have always been, a weeder.  Similar to an archaeologist uncovering a ruin, I enthusiastically liberate shrubs from the strangle-hold of morning glory, roll up carpets of chickweed, don eye-protection for snap-weed removal and suit-up for Heracleum eradication. Time is sucked into a void as piles of homeless plantain accumulate on the lawn.

Weeds are an impressive and visually striking group of plants. Just as I respect the ingenuity of the crows that pull out my laboriously planted annuals, I respect the plant mechanisms which have allowed the thistles, dandelions, etc. to evolve and persevere and claim their title as weeds.

....... and isn't respect the cornerstone of any successful relationship?