Weeds
Here, right before me, I had a natural garden. One that flourished and actually wanted to be there.
Wildflowers at 42 Acres Somerset, England
My yard is full of weeds.
I used to try to pull them all up, to plant things that I thought should be there and mulch over the bare, weedless earth around them.
Most of what I planted died, and the weeds came back.
Year after year I weeded, planted and mulched.
Year after year, the new arrivals died and the weeds persevered.
Then, one sunny spring day on a farm in the English countryside, I met a gardener named Angus.
Around the farmhouse and barns grew brilliant patches of wildflowers, in seemingly effortless beauty.
They were really weeds (as far as Angus was concerned, anyway, having been trained in formal gardens). But they grew there naturally, thriving in the soil and whatever sun and the rain that they got, and he had started in his taciturn way to appreciate them. They fed the bees and the birds, and all he really had to do was keep invasive weeds pulled out and occasionally mow close to the buildings and walkways. Easy, almost effortless gardening. No mulch needed.
Farmhouse at 42 Acres Somerset, England
Once home, I started to see the weedy borders of my yard in a whole different way.
Here, right before me, I had a natural garden. One that flourished and actually wanted to be there.
I started learning the names of the plants; Wild Aster, English Violet, Coreoposis, Wild Strawberry, Mugwort.
Naming them gave them status. Not that they needed the recognition, but it helped my human brain to not call them weeds. They were themselves after all, with their own beauty and place in the other-than-human world that we share. The world we have learned to pave over, use up, not see.
The hosta, peonies, rosebushes, hydrangea, and lilacs, almost all planted by the former owner probably fifty years ago, are mostly on the front and sides of the house, along with a neatly trimmed lawn that gives us an air of respectability. I didn’t mulch them this year, and they are thriving with a lovely clover ground cover.
Hosta and former weeds Oriental Ladies Slipper, English Violet and Blue Wood Aster along the back fence
In the back there are daffodils in the spring and tiger lilies in the summer and a begonia or two in pots, and the vegetable garden, of course. And now there is a most glorious collection of former weeds flowering madly down the hill and along the fence. The bees and hummingbirds are ecstatic. The Great Mother says she is pleased with me for figuring this out.
I have read that the Rose Gardens at the White House in Washington have been taken out and paved over. I shall look forward to seeing the weeds growing through the cracks. Because the weeds, they always come back.
Wishing you love, peace and wisdom,
Myra
If you like this post, please like and share. My husband says people don’t know that little heart button is there. If you scroll down, you’ll find it.