Sorting the Weeds from the Wimps

The Queen Anne's Lace stands regal and unruffled, cool and white. In meadows made up of petrified dried grasses, delicate lavender wild monarda stands solidly and plays hostess to the butterflies. An encouraging sight indeed. I have utter respect for Verbena hastata which I seeded into one of our better meadows. It's carrying the whole show. And the deep, rich brown of the Dock seedstalks gives us an anchor when it feels like everything is just going to turn to beige and blow away.

The broader-leaved grasses squeeze their eyes shut, roll up their leaves and wait for rain. No sense in growing if you haven't any water to support how big you are now. Most unfortunately the farmers' corn is saying the same thing. If all the lanes shifted at once, we'd still be in business, but just because the rain is very VERY long in coming, doesn't mean the frost will be too. Actually, I'm sure under their breaths the plants are praying for an EARLY frost so they can just STOP. Just throw their leaves on the ground and QUIT. Enough for this year. (I hear ya!)

As the drought pebble is tossed into the ever-lowering pond, the ripples go out and out. What plants there are that are handling this, are being eaten quickly by all the animals who have no grass to eat. This morning the cows were sticking their tongues through the page-wire fence and eating the goldenrod in my back yard.

So. What are the wisest of the weeds saying to us? Pull in, curl up, and stay low to the ground until the rains come again. That is, unless it's your time to BLOOM and then........by all means. HIT THE HIGH NOTES!!!

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