Weeds

 

I am leaning over our big book, reading aloud. 

 

Frankie is making strange hissing sounds.

 

For months now I have been trying to convince Frankie she needs to help out a bit with flower garden maintenance.  I've spent countless hours pointing out to her which plants need to be removed and which are to remain.  Not only has she shown no interest, her blatant attitude about helping out with weed pulling is shocking.  She will kneel close to me while I point out dandelions, buttercups, crabgrass, cat's-ear, wild lettuce, and various other pests that have been invading my lovely gardens for years, only to have her roll her eyes, remove the Dum-dum lollipop from her mouth long enough to mutter "Can I go now?"  And, stroll away.

 

Me, still on my knees, shake my head, and wonder 'Where have I gone wrong?'

 

Lord knows, I've never made her spend hours on her knees actually weeding, but simply asked that while going for the mail, or sauntering about the yard, if she happens to see a weed or two, just, please, bend over and pull them out.  How hard can that be?

 

Of course her foremost excuse has always been "I don't know what's a weed and what isn't.  If I pull out something you want to keep you will be mad at me."

 

(Actually this is a valid point).

 

So, in desperation this morning I decided to look up what a weed is in our big book, thinking (I thought logically) this would settle the matter.  Boy was I wrong.

 

Weed:

a (1): a plant that is not valued where it is growing and is usually of vigorous growth; especially: one that tends to overgrow or choke out more desirable plants.

 

As you can see, what I learned only bolstered Frankie's concern about what exactly is a weed and what is not.   Apparently, a weed is in the eye of the beholder, one person's weed is another person's wild flower.

 

Truth be told, I've have always had my own concerns about what is a weed...and, what is a wild flower.  For instance, I happen to like Queen Anne's Lace and have grown it in my gardens for years.  I happen to like Chicory, with it's dainty blue August flowers and have had it growing in the yard as well.  Then, there's yarrow, scarlet pimpernel, so tiny and delicate it is often overlooked.  There's milkweed, daisies, brown-eyed Susan's, sweet smelling evening primroses, and tall, showy goldenrod all of which  according to my book of weeds, are indeed weeds.  However, all the above have graced my gardens from time to time, because I consider them wild flowers and I would be a bit miffed should Frankie yank them out.

 

On the other side of the weed coin, are plants that I've purchased over the years thinking they would be a good addition to the gardens.  A particular bluebell comes to mind.  It has overtaken the front yard garden and threatening to wander out of bounds and into the yard itself.  I bought the original at a nursery, paid good money for it...how could it be a weed.  Yet, according to the dictionary it is, because, it is no longer valued where it is growing, has the vigorous growth of a man steroids; and has overgrown and is choking out more desirable plants. 

 

I suppose I could add the bluebell to the list of things Frankie can pull, or I could 'letitgo" and cut Frankie some slack when it comes to weed pulling.  I guess I can continue to do that myself.  However, today's lesson on weeds has taught me something.  It has made me aware of why I hated pulling weeds for my mother.  Ooooh, she'd have been so mad had I pulled out her snap-dragons, zinnias or marigolds.

 

Do you have weeds, or wild flowers?