Every time I begin weeding a garden or flower bed I feel like a murderer. Grasping the stem as close to the soil as possible and feeling the plant hang on for dear life as the roots begin to rip from their foundation. I remember the first time I was asked to weed, my grandmother asked me to take out “those darn dandelions that keep infesting my irises.” She was no longer physically capable of doing the weeding her self, and as I pulled out each dandelion I felt like I had chlorophyll, the plant’s lifeblood, covering my cold hands.
I soon became a mass murder, as yardwork became my physical labor wheel-house. I went from my grandmother’s garden in Sharon, to her yard in Newton, to this rich dude Chris’s place in Sudbury. And when I say rich, this dude is ‘I have 4 different kinds of laborers working on my house’ rich or ‘my wife is far far too attractive for me’ rich. Either way, I am willing to be overpaid for doing some of his dirty work.
The past two days I have been sitting in the sun picking out weeds. No matter how many times I tell myself it builds character, it is always going to suck. I spent most of my time thinking about my upcoming trip to Cape Cod, with the remaining spent running through various scenarios for game 1 of the NBA finals (tonight! finally!) By hour number four spent with the mid-day sun beating down on me, I finally said enough is enough, bringing me to a new treatment of weeds. Call it Jesse’s philosophy on Weeds and Life.
Alright, so these invasive plants which pop up everywhere are called weeds. They are stigmatized and degraded, becoming the scum of the suburbs. For ever person in the city who complains about the homeless population of the subway smelling of piss, there is a suburbanite who has tried everything to protect their precious herb garden from becoming infested with these vile plants.
I am on a mission to destigmatize all of those weeds that get a bad reputation. After all, they are surviving the shit out the fittest, running over these pussy willows and such, who don’t have the agricultural fortitude to stick around without the coddling of human beings.
Besides some weeds have some dope flowers, let them shits GROW.
So here it is, my official campaign to re-imagine what it means to be a weed– not a pesky nuisance for a gardener, but a superior plant that deserves its new found real estate.