Weed Season

It’s weed season in Watertown. The combination of an unusually hot summer and recent downpours has yielded a fierce, proud crop of prickly greens, taking over sidewalk cracks and curb edges all over town. It would be hard to crown a “Champion Weed,” but the one shown here is definitely a contender.

Early in the summer, I love to weed. I find it satisfying and soothing, a task that yields clear, dramatic results quickly. Maybe because so much that we do in life is hard to measure, filled with mystery, weeding provides a needed sense of control.

But by late August, I’d rather sleep on a bed of nails than pull weeds. I’m just done with it. I give the weeds their day in the sun. It’s not really laziness, just resignation and a reordering of priorities. Let the weeds be weeds; I’m going to the beach. Let me float along in the mystery and the unmeasurability of life for a few more weeks, before returning to the land of metrics.

Looks like a lot of folks in Watertown feel the same way. How about you?

Championship weeds on anonymous curb

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About amymccreath

I'm a pastor and mother who loves to make connections between people, between ideas, and between stuff we label "sacred" and "secular." I aspire to be like a Cedar of Lebanon in the midst of the changes and chances of life, but like most folks, generally find that I can really only navigate the tumult hand in hand with others. Good coffee helps, too.
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One Response to Weed Season

  1. mompriest says:

    While we lived in Arizona we had a wonderful little garden in the backyard and front, too. Being unfamiliar with the vegetation there I once asked someone how I knew what was a weed and what was an intentional wildflower or plant? The answer, “what ever I thought was a weed, was weed. Everything else was fine.”

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