Tag Archives: weeding

On Weeding…


Call me crazy, but I like to weed.  On my own terms, but still…

A fine crop of weeds had grown up thanks to a fair amount of rain while I was in Wisconsin.  So the other evening, I pulled my camp stool out from under the house, and I got my weed digging tool, and I started in on the weeds that I had actually mowed earlier in the day.  They were thriving between the flagstones of my front path.


Okay, so perfect weeding conditions:  clear and sunny, a nice breeze, temps hovering mid-seventies, ground nice and soaked, but not muddy.  I had nearly all of those requirements met, and I got going.

Weeding is a mindless task.  It is quiet, except for the sounds of Mother Nature, and maybe a car or two passing by.  It is a job that demonstrates clearly the worker’s  accomplishment. 


It is an accomplishment that lasts, unlike dusting or making a meal.  The dust reappears almost within minutes.   The meal that took an hour or more to make is gone in twenty minutes, with a pile of dishes, pots and pans, and utensils left to be dealt with.  Weeding lasts, well, at least a week.

I like to think when I weed.  I think of all kinds of things…what materials to use with my tutoring kid, what my folks at the farm might be doing at that moment, upcoming visits from friends, what to wear tomorrow, what to eat for supper.

I weeded my front flagstone path.  I had most of my perfect conditions.  I could see clear results.  Call me crazy, but I like to weed.


(The green that remains is actually sedum, which I WANT to grow between the flags.)


Digging in the Dirt…


There’s nothing more satisfying. Well, unless it’s a grilled cheese sandwich or mashed potatoes with butter. But digging in the dirt was the way I spent several hours this morning. I was pulling up the violets from my, well, it turns out, Violet Garden. I didn’t plan on having a Violet Garden, and I don’t intend to have one. It just appeared, and now, it is mostly gone. At least for now.

Don’t get me wrong. I love violets. They are my “if I were a flower, I would be” flower. It’s just that I love other flowers, too. And I have found that violets are very possessive, and they want to be my only flower. Those rhizomes just keep creeping and growing and sprouting. Anyway, in order to have Black-eyed Susans and purple Coneflowers throughout the summer, I had to pull up the carpet of violets which has overtaken the flowerbed along my driveway.

It was a peaceful few hours. My little dog, Hattie, snapped at the carpenter bees. She made me laugh, her snapping clicking like those joke false teeth you wind up and let clack across the table. Mr. Beedle Weedleman, orange cat extraordinaire, came along to “help” by lying right in front of me and grabbing at my hand as I dug, yanked, and tossed.

When I dig in the dirt, I can free-think. I can feel the sun and the breeze, and I can see what I have accomplished and what I still have yet, to do. So, as I sat on the concrete driveway, and scooted along building piles of dirt and weeds, I felt about as fulfilled as was possible.

Now, I think I’ll move on to the kitchen. Grilled cheese? Mashed potatoes? It’s a hard choice.