Die, weed…

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Someone once told me a weed was just a plant growing where it wasn’t wanted. Here on the farm, there are some pretty beautiful weeds. One of them is wild yellow mustard. Its flower looks like yellow Queen Anne’s lace, which is one of my all time favorite ditch flowers.

Wild yellow mustard is not a favorite around here, and the folks had a field of it that we pulled up. Well, actually, they pulled up most of it over a course of three or four days. I just helped get the last of it this morning. It is kind of deadly. You get a terrible burning rash from contact with it. Ask me how I know.

Dad wages war on weeds daily. He is either spraying or pulling in the cool of the mornings. And Mom, well, I am not exaggerating when I say she carries a shovel in the back of her car, and stops to dig up whatever burdock she might see. Anywhere. Well, maybe I am exaggerating just a teense. It is pretty awesome for a delicate and beautiful lady, but there you have it.

Anyway, that’s what we do here on the farm…just a little morning workout. Better than the Y for burning a few calories and much more productive.

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One response »

  1. And I’m just weeding out my less than kind thoughts from the fields of my mind, breaking out in the rash of embarrassment at some of them…and letting the chickens weed the garden. May some topical Benadryl help. What a family! Xoxo

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