ronWLS
Purple
Here’s the truth: a weed is a plant somebody else doesn’t want.
Where I live, in a cozy ‘burb near the river, I’m supposed to have a pathological fear of weeds. I’m supposed to set my sights on the chemical-stuffed ideal of a golf course, where the aggressive hue and girth of every blade of grass suggests an army of tiny, rooted Hulks. You can practically hear the turf grunt as you walk by.
The lawn, in some neighborhoods, is the very measure of human worth, the embodiment of our struggle against the elements. I have seen a grown man, at the end of his driveway, glare into the yellow face of a dandelion and shake his fist.
Here’s the thing, though: I have never once seen that man, or his wife or his two little kids, barefoot in that manicured quarter-acre of grass. I’m pretty sure they’ve never rolled around on it, either.
And so I ask you, reader, to take stock. Have you ever sprawled on your belly and really looked a dandelion in the eye, mano a mano? Have you ever deliberately touched a thistle? Have you thought yet about how stubborn the species must be, to have figured out how to thrive in so many bleak, barren places? These things have put a lot of effort into not being eaten. Isn’t it fascinating, that act of will, on such a grand scale? They look so mean, and yet they whip out that color.
If you’re lucky enough to find an undisturbed thistle in bloom, maybe by the railroad tracks or near the edge of some woods, it might be nearly as tall as you are. I hope you’ll admire the symmetry of those spikes and pokey globes. You’ll be in the company of bees and yellow finches. And you really should reach out and touch that luxurious puff of purple. It’s softer than you might think.
If you lean in a little closer, it’ll whisper the secret every weed knows:
Never mind worrying about where you belong. Just breathe and be here. You’re gonna be just fine.
Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, Jenn Wilson and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
