Weed Or Flower?

Okay, I give up, I’m done with this post, I am going out to plant some Swiss Chard seed or something, or just sit in the shade with a drink, preferably so stiff it could walk out to the apple trees on its own volition.

hang on a sec, I forgot to load the pics to go with this….  Okay more than a sec, I’m a dorky…  Just a little bit more a few more pics… shall we just call this “Murphy’s post”  Bet is holding my cord in place so that my battery will charge, my last pic or two are stuck on Photoshop and it won’t open now that my … argh never mind, just read what I have so far, my header stands as my entry, I fix the rest when I’m not so outa whack…  In a minute… after a cup of tea…

I picked this week’s theme for the Header Challenge.  I was staring  blankly at this little pillow as I sat on my bed racking my brain for a great idea.  Then I found it, on the pillow, not in my garden but on this little pillow I had bought for my mom when I was in Jr. High.  You see, my mind isn’t always in the garden or up a tree, just mostly.

So this week’s theme for the gang, Fishing_Guy,  Mac, Darla and Gail’s Man,   was put to them like this:

Once in a golden hour,

I cast to earth a seed,

Up there came a flower,

The people said a weed.

                        Tennyson

Weed or Flower?  Go see what they have chosen. But…

I know what you’re thinking, you’re wondering how I could have gotten the theme so wrong when I was the one who picked it.  Well, Dear reader, you of all people know that my mind doesn’t always work in a straight line.  Uh, rarely actually, okay, never.

In fact, I am a great lover of things most folks call weeds.  So where are pictures like:

Field asters, and oxeye daisies,

Plantain and grasses.

Bedstraw? No that’s not right…I’ll have the proper name when Bet comes in from moving turkeys. 

And incredibly small little gems that I have yet to take the time to identify but enjoy so much when I come across them.  Any one of these would have made a great header and topic for lively discussion eh?

Some “weeds” I actually grow in my garden, on purpose.  I am a weedy gardener, liking the theory that most weeds if they don’t have their fingers wrapped around a favorite flower or plant, can be actually beneficial to the soil, the surrounding plants, the good bugs and the sweet little garden visitors like the birds and the butterflies.

There are even those “weeds” that I grow in the garden bed because when I need their healing powers or extracting powers, I’d rather not have to go hunt them down in ditch and dale.

Then there are those “weeds” that have been elevated from ditch and dale into the garden, picked and pruned genetically until their wild sides have been sufficiently cultivated.  But I’m fried from having to retrieve picture files from the oddest of places so go see Darla’s “Jimson weed” or Fishing Guy’s Queen Anne’s Lace. You will see two of my favorites, one grows here voluntarily and the other, Datura, does not.  I grow Datura’s buddy, Bugmansia, with much fuss and bother.  I think that means I like it.

But as you can see, I have not picked those for my header, for my topic today.  I pick my girls.  And while no one would call my girls weeds, at least not to my face, and we certainly wouldn’t do so to any one else who had young people of similar age… 

How often do we hear, how often do most of us say something rather disparaging of young people between the ages of thirteen and nineteen. 

Society and modern culture, calls them teenagers as they roll their eyes at the mere mention of such creatures. 

I must say, it needn’t be so.  And we needn’t even bury our collective heads in the sand and ignore their horrific uncontrolled behavior until it passes, somewhere around twenty-four if we’re lucky these days. 

It begins in baby-hood, not calling your toddler a “terrible two”.  Not listening to the well-intended when they remark on your well behaved nine year-old but then say, “just you wait, a few more years and you won’t like them so well.” 

I have never not liked my girls, any of the four of them, at anytime in their lives.  I chose not to not like them.  And I chose to rear them with the mind set that they needn’t be obnoxious for a few years in order to grow up.

So I say, “Flowers, for sure!”

Well, Dear Reader I am late with this post, we’ll talk more later eh?