Some people like to weed. I am one of these. With the recent torrential rain, and now the warmer temperatures, many Texas gardeners are turning their minds (and hands) to the weeds that seem to have sprung up literally over-night. This task can seem a little overwhelming when the whole garden is in weeds. Narrowing the view to much more myopic scope is helpful. As you let the mind wonder and play, weeding can actually be very cathartic. I would even venture to call the experience Zen.

Pulling this one, leaving that one, can give a gardener an almost omnipotent feeling that can be a little daunting. The seasoned gardener will know instantly to leave the larkspur seedling and pull the chickweed, while wondering why one is a good plant and the other a bad one. I hope God is more tolerant in His judgement.

The meditative work of weeding

A poem by Carl Sandburg is a nice reflection for the day’s task.

Weeds

FROM the time of the early radishes
To the time of the standing corn
Sleepy Henry Hackerman hoes.

There are laws in the village against weeds.
The law says a weed is wrong and shall be killed.
The weeds say life is a white and lovely thing
And the weeds come on and on in irrepressible regiments.
Sleepy Henry Hackerman hoes; and the village law uttering a ban on weeds is unchangeable law.