Weeds. I grow them. Well, not the illegal ones, even though I did grow up in Kentucky, where "weed," aka "grass," seems to be the #1 illegal cash crop.
^^See this grass? That's the kind I grow. It's the kind I can grow because a.) I do not have a green thumb at all and b.) it grows all by itself. All that time I was fixing a new flower spot at my mom and dad's last week, I carried with me the certain knowledge that my mother, the queen of plants, would make sure the flowers I planted would be watered and tended. I also carried with me a humongous grudge against this very stuff, this grass that lengthens its grasp by at least two inches daily, this grass that puts down roots better than a homebody who has never left the county limits.
And, yet, look at that picture again. Isn't it kind of pretty the way each new shoot adds a touch more green surrounding that pale pinwheel at the heart of it? Isn't it intriguing that even a lowly, annoying weed such as this forms a beautiful mandala pattern?
So, with a wink at Ellen, who says only I could make a dandelion look and sound pretty, I give you some more pictures of the weeds that were happily growing without my help while I was gone last week. (Lest you think I've finally lost my mind completely, let me also point out that Mallory actually adores milkweed for a very good reason.)
^^A black-eyed Susan of the straggly weed variety is blooming in one of my abandoned flower pots. No way am I going to disturb her. That intense buttery sunshine crown with the velvety corduroy brown center is just too beautiful to require relocation. I'm sure we must have some chigger weed growing around here, too, but I wasn't up to crossing the newly graveled chip and seal road in my barefeet and pajamas this morning. I do love that stuff, too. It's so lacy, so delicate. . .and so full of chiggers it'll make you scratch from ten feet away. Ah, have you figured out which weed I'm talking about yet? I'll bet you've seen it. It's the one that bears a striking resemblance to Queen Ann's Lace. I make no claims to be a botanical expert, but I must tell you that I am convinced chiggerweed and Queen Ann's Lace are one and the same. (Dangit, now, I feel like I gotta slip on the flipflops, grab the camera, and go take a quick pic!)
<--Anybody know the real name for this stuff? It looks like a tiny hybrid of clover and shamrocks, doesn't it? If you ask me, it is the quintessential groundcover. It stays low to the ground. It cushions bare feet from the gravel underneath it. It has those little nubs of yellow flowers that bloom once in a while. It tricks the mind into thinking you're in a field of clover. Just look at it. I think it probably harbors some shy pixies and a faery or two. Wouldn't you like to shrink down to their size for a moment and look up into the world from behind all those heart-shaped umbrellas? Um, no, in case you're starting to wonder, I don't smoke any weeds to get my mind to think like this. . .it just comes naturally, this pondering and wondering.
<-- Weeds are things that grow where they are not supposed to grow, and here is a new weed for the books: TomCattusNoBelongusToUs.
This is Patience, at least that's what we named him a long time ago when he appeared out of the cornfield as a stray kitten. I named him without looking at the nether regions, so Patience is still what we call him when he comes to visit. It didn't take long for our MeatyHead to discover that Patience was a tom, though. Territorial wars ensued, and Patience took up residence across the street.
He still comes back to lounge on the deck, eat any of Moochie's leftover cat chow, and occasionally mark what he thinks is still his territory. So, since he's another weed I really like, and since he was willing to pose this morning, you get a picture of him today, too :)