Flower or Weed? Let the Debate Begin!
About this time every year in my hot, Texas yard, clumps of wiry-looking leaves begin growing on my front lawn. These clumps hurt if you step on them, especially if they are exceptionally dry. If left alone, however, they will bloom into tiny, lavender-white asters with lovely yellow centers in late August or September.
At least, I think they are lovely. I love daisies, and, to me, these tiny flowers look like miniature daisies. They are beautiful, in my mind at least. My husband, on the other hand, calls them weeds. He hates these things and complains about how terrible they look in our yard. I usually listen to his complaints, while on the inside, I am secretly happy that I have tiny little wildflowers living in my yard for a few weeks. It’s like God gave me flowers!
What makes a plant a weed, exactly? It seems that intentions matter. For example, I want grass in my yard, and encourage the bermuda grass to thicken and hopefully choke out the weeds (but maybe not the asters!) However, that same grass, growing in my vegetable garden, is an unsightly, hard-to-control weed that I forcibly remove from my garden beds week after week. My intention is to grow grass in my yard, but not in my garden.
Sometimes, though, weeds are beautiful, if you look at them a little out of context. Dandelions are a beautiful shade of yellow. There’s even a Crayola crayon named after them! They are also edible and can be used for medicinal purposes, as long as you don’t spray them with Roundup. Clover is beautiful too, and it fixes nitrogen and is actually good for your yard. And then, there’s my favorite, the asters. They are cheerful and lovely, but terribly underappreciated by all but me, it seems.
Garden expert, Neil Sperry, calls my tiny asters “Roadside Asters.” He says they are weeds of neglect, meaning that they like to grow in the hottest, driest places, where little watering occurs. I guess the side of a typical highway fits this description, as does my poor little yard. I am not big on summer watering at all, preferring to let my grass wither and die in the summer heat. It always comes back in the spring, though maybe not as full and healthy as some of the neighbors’ yards. My philosophy is that I live in Texas, and Texas is hot and dry in summer. If God wants me to have grass, He’ll make it rain. Apparently, my neglect is also creating the perfect habitat for my tiny fall beauties, and I am not inclined to change my watering practices any time soon.
Mr. Sperry may be an expert, but he obviously doesn’t share my views on wildflowers. I can appreciate the beauty of a well-kept lawn, but it somehow just doesn’t suit me. I need the diversity and chaos that weeds create. It’s a metaphor for my life. I generally know what’s coming next, just like I usually know when to expect certain “weeds” to grow. Once in awhile, though, I get a surprise. Sometimes, it’s beautiful. Sometimes, not so much. I choose to focus on the beauty.
I would love to have a yard that is landscaped only by beautiful, native wildflowers. I’m not sure if I’ll ever achieve this, since I live in the suburbs, not a meadow. As a consolation, I’ll take my little patch of asters every fall, and I’ll keep defiantly neglecting to water my lawn to encourage them.
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then mine will be full of beauty in about a month.
