When I looked out on the garden recently, it was wall to wall green, which sounds great until I tell you that it was mostly weeds. A few small shrubs poked up above the expanse, and a brave flower or two spotted the vermilion with blues and reds, but “weed green” was definitely the theme that came to mind.
I needed to get in deep, without disturbing the flowers, so a trowel became my preferred weapon.
As I dug down, needing to go twelve inches for some roots, I pondered the parable of the sower. My path has weeds, my rocky soil has weeds, my weedy area has weeds and even my good soil is full of the dratted things. The good plants only ever seemed to have shallow roots – never more than a few inches, and often got uprooted while dealing with the unwanted. Most of the time they got replanted in the clearer soil, but a few were broken.
Several days later, things look different. Swathes of brown surround colourful plants and brown leaved shrubs, preparing for their winter sleep. It looks good, clean, and ordered. My back aches, but it's a good feeling, well earned and worthwhile.
I know what's really there, though. Under the ground, the roots I missed, or couldn't remove – some finding their way to light from deep under the concrete path. Minuscule seeds, left over from the beautiful yellow dandelions wait their turn next spring, ready to grab my reclaimed land. I can ignore them for now, of course, there's plenty of time to deal with them later.
I guess there's a parable growing in there - somewhere.