Weeds or Flowers?

I like pulling weeds. It’s a task that shows results, for one thing. Another benefit is the sunshine warming my back as I am bent over the flowerbed, plucking those greens that do not belong. The definition of a weed must be just that: any undesirable green plant not purposely placed in confined space, because the blossoms on some of those weeds are rather pretty to the eye. The kid and I agree that they are flowers, even if the husband disagrees. On the other hand, when I pluck wild growing grass out of the flower beds, he cringes, due to his inherent love of grass. Such it is with a lawn man! We are forever divided on the issue of what is considered a weed, whether they are pretty or useful or should they be destroyed expediently, and by what means. Using a weed-eater is the husband’s choice, must be the man thing to do. Plucking them carefully by pulling the roots out, shaking off excess dirt, and throwing it in the garbage is my preferred method of removal. And I take special care to catch them when they are still young, because a little weed today will be as high as the bushes tomorrow. So stooping down is very much necessary as to not miss those minute growths. I’m sure we could spray something, or cover them up with a load of new mulch, and we should, one of these days. But until then, I will have my pleasure tending to my garden of weeds on a weekly basis. Maybe I do like gardening after all. Who knew?