by Eleanor Deckert
I like to weed the garden three times a year.
The first time is so exciting. Tiny spring mysteries are unfolding. I am so in awe of Creation and the newness of each day. How can this teensy-tiny seed hold this much information? How can identical ingredients: dirt and rain and sunshine, end up as mint, chives and strawberries?
But, I have to be very careful. I have discovered that almost every plant I am growing on purpose to eat, has a look-alike weed. The red fibre in the sprouting beet leaf has a twin red-veined weed. The spiking onion has a similar twin. The feathered carrot has a mysterious cousin. Pea greens, spinach, even potatoes have decoy weed matches.
It has taken me years and many messy gardens to be able to discern the differences and move with careful confidence down the rows. Previously I had to wait and wait to be sure which one was which.
Now that I am “older and wiser” I ponder as I pull. Are there lessons to be learned from my garden?
How does my garden grow within me? “What are the little lies masquerade as truth, confusing me while they grow? Could I begin to better identify these untruths and eradicate them before they take root and drain my resources from the purpose I am reaching for?”
The second time I weed my way through the rows is not so pleasant. Mosquitoes sing while I swat, leaving muddy marks on my face and neck. Long sleeves and pants, too hot, but my method of defence, make the weeding a triple ordeal.
However, the plants are getting stronger. Any doubts I had about which-is-which are gone. I can see the effort will bear fruit. Rhubarb, radishes, green onions, lettuce thinnings, chives are now edible to enjoy.
But the roots of the unwanted weeds are the challenge now. Some are long and thin, sliding out easily. Some are in clumps and harder to loosen. Some break off. Many weeds reproduce through their roots, so tugging off the tops will not reduce the ratio.
Pondering again, partly to amuse myself while I continue the tedious, unpleasant, repetitive, back-and- knee bending work, I think about my own habits. One of my teachers used to tell us to “dig out the root” of a bad habit “or it will grow back even stronger.” Tricky things, those roots. Unseen, they creep and pop out elsewhere. Deeply storing energy, they can wait and return when least expected. Holding potential they have the willpower to challenge even the most determined weeder. How hard is it to break a habit? Where do they come from? How can I make it go away… and not come back?”
The third time I weed is at this time of year, racing the waning almost autumn sunshine. Seed pods are maturing. If I can pull out the plants before they scatter trouble for next year, I will have won a mighty battle. Now I can rip and grab. Not so tenderly asking before I gently tug in the early spring. Not distracted between pulling and swatting in June. Not roasting in July. Now I can move with a vengeance, identifying the trouble makers, decisive and conquering.
Not all decisions in life are so clear and obvious. I feel bold and courageous. “Be Gone!” “Take That!” No more clinging burrs of nagging uncertainty. No more thistle-y prickers of taunts. No more rattling pods of shaken self doubt.
And the result: like a peaceful scene, my garden shows shades of green, variations in leaf shape and size, bulging beets, swollen pumpkins, spikes of onions, fern-like carrot tops, abundant beans.
And inside: calm and balance, productive days, restful nights.
It seems to me that overcoming the weeds inside and out are worth the struggle.
