|Clearing the back forty
||[Jul. 31st, 2004|08:21 pm]
Today I spent some time clearing the beds along the side fence. They were full of some viny things...possibly kudzu and some weedy thing I didn't recognize. I let it have its way in the spring, when it bloomed, but now it was getting out of hand, so it had to go.
I hate weeding. Not the pulling up weeds part, which I actually sort of enjoy. It falls under the same category as my passion for polishing, I think. But I never feel quite...right...about it. Pulling up a perfectly good and healthy plant simply because it's growing someplace I don't want it to grow seems a bit dictatorial, if not downright maniacal. It's un-American. Shouldn't the plants have a right to grow and thrive?
I reconcile it by telling myself the out of control plants have overstepped their boundaries by encroaching on the other plants' territory. It's not like they're moving into uninhabited terrain. I admire tenacity, but can't abide rudeness.