To Weeds, Especially Creeping Charlie

If it were up to me, we would just admire your tiny beauty and let you be. But Chuck, across the street, has issues. One summer, he spent his afternoons sitting on the ground in his front yard, jeans and golf shirt, digging root after root out out from between the blades of grass. He would spend days in one spot until there was nothing but grass growing. You had been removed, like drunk uncles at Christmas who sprawl out on the couch and demand more Cheez-its. Chuck kicked you out.

Source: This photography was created by Artem Topchiy (user Art-top).

And I imagine it takes just one or two of your flowers to blow across the street to start the invasion all over again, and though he would never blame me out loud, he’ll mention it. Often. And Chuck has better things to do. The dog needs training. The roof is dirty. The fence is starting to lean, a clear 93 degree angle by now.

If someone had not told me that you were a weed, I would have never thought to get rid of you. Your equally horizontal and vertical growth, the smash of blue flowers against the circle green leaves, your rapid ease growth on any terrain. You are the perfect plant for a gardener like me. I can sit in my folding chair with my book and my iPad, writing all afternoon, tending to nothing but my own wordiness, pulling out the “very’s” and the “really’s.”

By John Liu [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)],
via Wikimedia Commons

So we do it for the neighbors. Creeping Charlie for Chuck, the thistle for Steve, the dandelions for Wayne. We do our best the keep the wild within our borders so that neighbors continue to wave to us when we walk the dogs. We recognize our responsibility to the make the block look decent, keep our property values up. 

But I don’t really understand it. I make a wish. Blow.