Blame Thoreau

I see the looks of disgust and sometime pity on my neighbors' faces. I may be the reason why property values have plummeted. Me and my flowerbeds.

They're neglected. Weeds have overtaken my yard. And then there are the weeds. And the weeds. And it's just a huge chaotic mess. I know next to nothing about plants. So, who am I to judge what is valuable in a garden and what is not. This could be a weed. It's crowding out some other plant, but see how pretty it is?

And theses, by their aggressive nature in completely overwhelming the little space, I think they are probably weeds. But how gorgeous the bright yellow color is.

I know the beds need work, but I can't bear to pull what is actually the most colorful of the plants just because they weren't planned by a person. I've heard the definition of "weed" is any plant that is not where you want it. Maybe I don't want it there, but maybe some little squirrel did (in his forgetfulness) or maybe another plant who said in its plant way "Gee, I really like who I am. I think I will make more of me, so I won't be lonely." And all the seeds go out and do their thing. Life continues on happily. I pull no plants up, only let them have their way, and my neighbors are gathered on the porch across the street talking, staring at my yard, and shaking their heads. They're talking about me. I just know it!

In Walden, Thoreau wrote, "In wilderness is the preservation of the world." Although Thoreau was a little too...errr...nature-happy for me, still I agree with him about the beauty of life in its undisturbed state. A woman I once knew loved to pick the small yellow dandelions in the yard. She admired their beauty and expressed her opinion that she wouldn't mind being as pretty as the dandelion weeds. Don't they have an interesting life? The small golden flowers near the ground which some how morph into the feathery plants in which many a child has made wishes on. Last night I watched a little boy gather up those feathery flowers and run and twirl them mightily releasing the seeds to go out and make hundreds more of the little plants. In his enthusiasm, this child was participating in the incredible circle of nature. I smiled and popped a Claritin.