Be A Weed
“Sometimes, when I haven’t slept or the news of the world, already bad, suddenly becomes much worse, the weight of belonging here is a heaviness I can’t shake. But then I think of the glister of a particular morning in springtime. I think of standing in the sunshine and watering the butterfly garden, which is mostly cultivated weeds punctuated by the uncultivated kind that come back despite my pinching and tugging. I think of the caterpillars on the milkweed plants, unperturbed by the overspray, and the resident red-tailed hawk gliding overhead, chased by a mockingbird and three angry crows, and the bluebird standing on the top of the nest box protecting his mate, who is inside laying an egg. I think of that morning - not even a morning, not even an hour - and I say to myself, Be an egg. Be a mockingbird. Be a weed.”
- Margaret Renkl, Late Migrations, A Natural History of Love and Loss
Notes:
Margaret Renkl’s memoir is like a salve during difficult times. A beautiful book and highly recommended.
Photo: Ephemeral weed, Skyline Ridge Open Space Preserve, January 2020. By Margaret Doyle