Weeds.

We’ve been so sick that I decided today we’d go out for some fresh air and sunshine.

We played ‘McDonald’s Drive thru’ where ‘paying’ for your meal turned into a painful game of chicken and our orders began with Mcnuggets and slowly turned into McMolly burgers and McViolet shakes to McFart burgers and McShaker butts.

I haven’t laughed like that with my kids in ages.

After a little while Buddy got tired of the swings, the slippery dip and had successfully helped himself to every single piece of zucchini slice and licked every pancake I’d packed.

And finally when the bunch of grapes ran out -he’d picked each and every one and passed one to each of the girls, following them until they’d accept it from him- he was done.

So tired.

He was grumbly and sooky so to distract him, I picked a fluffy weed and handed it to him.

He took it, he looked at it. He sat down with it and swished it by his face tickling his nose.

I picked some more.

Before I even knew what I was doing I was making a little wreath. Picking more weeds and adding them to it.

Weaving and wrapping.

I haven’t done that since I was a little girl.

The girls as they always do, wanted to know what had made my mouth stop working and sucked my attention away. I showed them what I was doing and they instantly were in love.

I showed them how to begin and how to weave more into it. The little girls struggled so they searched the paddock and edges of the park for flowers and weeds and anything at all really to give to their bigger sisters for their little wreaths.

Amazing.

They all fell silent. Worked together instead of arguing. It kept us all occupied for ages.

But while I picked those weeds, took them and placed them in specific spots and wrapped them around and around, I couldn’t help but think how misunderstood weeds are.

People hate weeds.

Some try to smother them, poison them, crush them, hack at them and tear them from the earth.

How come?

Are they not just another plant.

Maybe it’s because they aren’t doing what the gardeners want, maybe they aren’t in the right place, maybe their colours don’t match, maybe they have too many spikes?

Maybe just being different is the problem?

Maybe just the word ‘weed’ turns them off.

I like weeds. Most actually have healing and medicinal qualities, a lot of weeds are actually quite pretty and have real purposes. A lot weeds in Australia are actually native plants in other countries.

I think that maybe the fact that they are so strong and persistent may worry some.

We wouldn’t want a garden full of beautiful yet pointless roses taken over by ‘weeds.’

(Yes, I am aware that her purple flower is poisonous. We washed our hands when we were done.)

I also thought about how with the right attention, the right amount of care, the right environment and just a tiny bit of appreciation could help transform something normally thrown away like rubbish into something beautiful.

Perhaps that’s why weeds always grow together?

Anything can be beautiful, anything can be strong, anything can have it’s place.

Even a weed.

One thought on “Weeds.

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