Weeding

Our first summer in this house, eight years ago, our perennial garden brought surprise after surprise. Among my favorites were the delicate, bright red petals of poppies in June. Two poppy plants returned the next couple of years, then died out. My attempt to plant new ones failed. Then last year, a poppy volunteer cropped up in a totally different part of the garden. My only role was to weed around this unexpected gift to help it thrive.

I’ve blogged about weeding before and probably will again. It’s a metaphor for so much in my life: editing, scheduling, options, immediate gratification. This season I’m thinking about invasives, the species that spread so thick and fast they can choke out everything else.

Some plants and life events are always unwelcome. Others bring delight wherever they appear, like poppies. Most complex, for me at least, are the mildly invasive beauties that bring joy in their place but will overrun the garden if given a chance. Elsewhere in life it might be screen time, or social activity, or chocolates.

National news this season brings little joy, but I don’t want to weed it out altogether. To know what’s happening and yet leave room to savor life’s delights is a balancing act. Where to draw the line varies from person to person, and from one week to the next. Heading back out to the garden reminds me this day still holds enchantment for the hours I can set invasive worries aside.