In honor of Earth Day, Mother Goose will now pause to consider the weeds.
We’ve been told by the Lord to consider the birds of the air and the flowers of the field, but just for now, let us consider the weeds. I believe there were no weeds in the Garden of Eden — they were a result of man’s sin and the resulting curse that God placed on the earth. And so technically, we cannot call these weeds a species indigenous to our planet — I propose that they have come from “somewhere else”, possibly hell.
I have indeed been to my front garden these past few days, attempting to rid our sweetly cultivated space of the invasive and fluffy plant latinly named Taraxacum officinale. I’ve included a very scientific illustration in case you are unfamiliar with this particular flora. And if you are unfamiliar with taraxacum, please leave Mother Goose a comment describing exactly where on Earth you live…
My weeding procedure is not very remarkable. I simply insert the blade of my gardening tool into the rain-softened soil approximately 1/2″ from the base of the dandelion. Gathering my wits about me and all my strength, I push down at a 45-degree angle until my tiny trowel is sunk to a level of two or three inches. Then I give a quick snap and twist of the wrist until I hear that satisfying “pop” which proves that the root of the disparaging plant has been severed.
With my left wing, I grab the top of the plant and shake it to release the ball of dirt clinging to the root. We must never waste any soil. Mother Goose believes that all of Mother Earth should be returned immediately to the garden from whence it came.
Mother Goose spots small creatures who have been unearthed in her frenzied unweeding — earthworms and ball bugs (which have been renamed Roly Polies by the children of this generation. Every generation has its buggy monikers, and this one is no different…).
However, in the energetic and agitating process of removing precious soil from the root ball, Mother Goose has discovered an unforeseen and acutely exasperating problem…
Each and every individual fluff that flew off the stem of innumerable taraxacum found its way unforgivably into the far-flung beak of Mother Goose. For endless hours on my bony knees, with small spatulated spade in my right hand, I fought the flying fuzzies off with my left hand.
Alas, the battle was lost. Though I easily filled my large yellow plastic containers with quickly wilting leaves and stems and roots of taraxacum, the millions upon millions of floating seed parachutes were not contained, but indeed have simply and unfortunately dispersed. Though my garden may appear weed-free today, I know that in a week or maybe two, the germination process will have begun anew. And Mother Goose will return to the scene of the crime spree with gardening tools in hand and surgical mask in place.
A special note: children find the puffballs of taraxacum irresistible. In regard to the fluffy, they have no self-control. Children will automatically grab them and puff them with all their might. How does Mother Goose respond to this bizarre childlike behavior?
Blessings on your Earth Day!