no hard feelings?
After the last post, and especially after Talon’s thoughtful comment, I felt rather guilty on behalf of all the weeds out there — especially the weeds I have loved or found beautiful, or have just not wanted to rip from the earth because it felt like such a cruel act. Here’s one, a lowly weed that sprouted where the crookneck squash used to grow before they got mildew. I let it grow to enormous proportions because, after all, I didn’t need the space at the very hottest part of the hot season. Besides, I was curious to see its progress.
When I saw it flowering, though, I had to put a stop to my soft-heartedness. By definition, a weed will put out an amazing quantity of seeds, if allowed. I couldn’t let it happen: I love my vegetables more. Even if these are next year’s veggies we’re talking about… that haven’t even been born yet, except in my fertile imagination.
The guilt came also from my depriving the bees of a native wildflower to visit. (Isn’t it strange how what we plant purposefully is often an import, a foreigner, and what we tear out by the roots a native to our soil?) But on the edge of the woods is this magnificent, brushy, untamed bit that’s just packed with tiny flowers that look like a wild relative of the aster, and it’s bustling with bumblebees from early morning on, so I think I have not left them to starve.
I hope so, anyway.