"What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have never been discovered."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson -
I love being outside and walking around our property. It's so peaceful, restful and just downright therapeutic...except for the weeds. God, do I hate weeds. The husband will literally spend hours each spring planting such beautiful plants and flowers only to have see them over-powered literally overnight with weeds. Not just any weeds...prickly, deeply rooted, plant sucking WEEDS!
The husband is a naturalist. He loves making things grow and so he does...he grows things and they flourish, and the weeds appreciate his efforts. I go outside to the front of the house and start the extraction process only to find out, I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing. "Petunias, oops! Son of a bitch! Marigolds!!! How the hell did those weeds envelope the petunias??" The pressure! I walk inside and tell the husband..."I give up. I simply give up."
The process of weeding is well, tedious and never-ending. One of the first times I decided to become "one with the Earth," a swarm of hornets decided going up my pant leg was a good idea and I don't think I have jerked and jumped that hard since my disco days. After that episode, weeding did not become a priority. A diet tonic and a shot of vodka was more to the liking. Then something even more definitive happened...
The husband planted sun flowers. He planted marigolds. He planted peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, and herbs. He planted corn and two willow trees. Then...he fractured his hip. The process of trying to maintain this plethora of natural beauties was left to me. I tried. I got outside and I took my time. I gingerly pulled and pulled and pulled some more of those vicious, ugly weeds to free all of the beauty that was indeed flourishing from the husband's efforts. It suddenly became very therapeutic. One weed, two weed, three weed, gone! There were tossed into the wheelbarrow to become mulch. Ha! Take that weeds! Now, now you're fertilizer! I was outside for a few days and the pile of weeds continued to grow and as I looked at the mountain of weeds I had plucked, I suddenly realized how therapeutic it all was.
In short, when we extract the weeds...when we expose the beauty, there is a certain freedom and well, additional growth from the process. It's not just weeds I've been extracting since, it's the clearing of much more. When we personally weed, we allow the best of ourselves to grow. Why I didn't realize this until recently, I don't have a clue. Now I also understand why my husband is the naturalist that he is. When he grows the bounty that is ours, he is in fact sharing a clear part of himself. I will never attest to be the naturalist that my husband is. Forget about that. However let me very clear...Weeding...it's a calling. It is for the brave who take it upon themselves to clear their space and provide room for what is beautiful.
The process of weeding is well, tedious and never-ending. One of the first times I decided to become "one with the Earth," a swarm of hornets decided going up my pant leg was a good idea and I don't think I have jerked and jumped that hard since my disco days. After that episode, weeding did not become a priority. A diet tonic and a shot of vodka was more to the liking. Then something even more definitive happened...
The husband planted sun flowers. He planted marigolds. He planted peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, and herbs. He planted corn and two willow trees. Then...he fractured his hip. The process of trying to maintain this plethora of natural beauties was left to me. I tried. I got outside and I took my time. I gingerly pulled and pulled and pulled some more of those vicious, ugly weeds to free all of the beauty that was indeed flourishing from the husband's efforts. It suddenly became very therapeutic. One weed, two weed, three weed, gone! There were tossed into the wheelbarrow to become mulch. Ha! Take that weeds! Now, now you're fertilizer! I was outside for a few days and the pile of weeds continued to grow and as I looked at the mountain of weeds I had plucked, I suddenly realized how therapeutic it all was.
In short, when we extract the weeds...when we expose the beauty, there is a certain freedom and well, additional growth from the process. It's not just weeds I've been extracting since, it's the clearing of much more. When we personally weed, we allow the best of ourselves to grow. Why I didn't realize this until recently, I don't have a clue. Now I also understand why my husband is the naturalist that he is. When he grows the bounty that is ours, he is in fact sharing a clear part of himself. I will never attest to be the naturalist that my husband is. Forget about that. However let me very clear...Weeding...it's a calling. It is for the brave who take it upon themselves to clear their space and provide room for what is beautiful.
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