Into The Garden of Weedin'
by Jan Winn Jenkins
When I was a city dweller, I would drive into the countryside on summer days to gather weeds. I picked Chicory, Thistle, and Queen Anne's lace, then placed them in water jars around the house. In early fall I gathered Cattails and the prickly Teasle, to make arrangements for the fireplace hearth, but when they dried, they would burst open spilling frothy down and seeds onto the floor. But for a few months, they were beautiful and I put up with the inevitable mess.
Two years ago we moved to the country. From the moment I saw these six acres I knew it had to be ours. I own horses and there was a large horse barn with three acres of woods, a pond, and another three acres of weeds so tall that when I walked into the pasture, the view of the barn was nearly hidden.
Poison Ivy was everywhere, up and over the barn roof and on every tree. Yes, I'm allergic to ivy and ended up with pustules on my face, neck, and hands. I tried every remedy. Calamine, thick as butter, diluted bleach, and Fels-naptha for scrubbing. From an old folk remedy book, I crushed Impatiens into a slimy mess that plugged the shower drain after my skin began to burn like the fires of Hell. Next, I whipped up the creamy goo of the oatmeal remedy and found relief at last! The next morning, the swelling was down, the itch was less, and the alligator skin began to smooth out. One of the cures worked, but I still don't know which one. I'm now wiser, and to avoid the Ivy, I devised an intelligent plan of action. I run next door and ask the neighbor boy, "Pay ya ten dollars to cut weeds."
Our driveway divides the two horse pastures and one acre was full of Queen Anne's lace before we bush hogged, while the other acre had thousands of Teasle as tall as a horse. Horses don't eat weeds and since I don't have but two acres fenced, the weeds had to go. There were hundreds of Wild Cherry trees dotting the acreage and I cut each stump level with the ground so I could mow. I still have areas where I let the weeds flower, for the birds.
One weed that I've never seen before, grows four feet tall, with slender leaves two-foot long, in silver and green. When the early morning dew is heavy, the leaves bow and the first sun rays give the plant a look of diamonds dripping off the tips. It's beautiful, so I decided to let the plant live, but the spume of seeds burst open to proliferate everywhere. I still pull it out of the Herb garden, lawn, at the edge of the woods, and even from my potted plants. If I could contain it, I would let it grow, but it's much too invasive.
The Lord must have decided I loved weeds, so He gave me acres of them. But I'm not complaining because He answered my prayers. I'm up before dawn to see what He has in store for my day. There are always problems to solve, but with His guidance, I'm never alone. We have fun days and hard days, but every one is an adventure to be lived to the fullest. There is contentment in the hard work that keeps my mind and body fit. Yes, I'm a country girl once again. There are still weeds to cut and bugs to fight but it's a small price to pay.
About the Author
JAN WINN JENKINS is living out her dreams on a small horse farm near Shelbyville, Indiana, with her husband Tom. As a writer, Jan has many interests such as, short stories, novel writing, poetry, and photography. Most of her writing is done in the early morning before the birds are awake, so the rest of the day can be given over to living what she writes.
