Even in one-hundred-degree heat, the weeds grow. I’m pretty sure there is a hybrid of Bermuda and crabgrass growing in the bed by the front drive. Rather, it was growing until I donned my new gloves and pulled the weed. It might be considered a grass, but in the wrong place, it’s a weed to me.
Photo by Carl Lewis under the Creative Commons Attribution License 2.0.
I was anxious to plant the two lamb’s ear sprigs I obtained from a clump at the church garden (that looked like it could use thinning). Some might consider lamb’s ear a weed, too, but at least it has some curb appeal. It also has some drought tolerance and is low-maintenance: my kind of plant!
I was so anxious that I took the time to bring the dog outdoors with me, but I did not change my clothes nor remove my collar, the newest addition to my wardrobe and sign of my office. I had the band around my neck, the dog near my feet, and my hands at the spade, digging in the rocks, when I recalled the morning’s readings–the parable of the sower.
This was rocky ground. I wasn’t planting seeds. I was pulling weeds and planting new plants, but it was rocky ground. And life is hard. The busy door to the church, opening to the many in need, could testify to that. Despite the rocky soil, some things grew. The boxwood grows. My so-called hybrid, pointy nuisance of grass was growing. As a would-be gardener, I was transfiguring the landscape a bit to introduce a softer plant, one with antiseptic qualities, I was told, should I need it. Maybe it will take, maybe not. I’ll have to keep tending and watering, and I’ll have to wait. The conditions are not ideal, but maybe something better will come of my efforts; maybe there is fertile soil there after all.
There will be more weeds, more unwanted foliage, and attempts to change things for the better. There will be neighbors driving by wondering what the lady in a collar with the big yellow dog is doing in the rocks when it’s a hundred degrees outside. There will also be the realization that what matters more than anything is the time and care given to another, to any aspect of Creation. Wearing a collar or not, this is work I am bound to do . . . work I love to do . . . and will continue to do with determination, perseverance, and hope.