A wise old gardener once told me weeds were only a different kind of flower.
It’s true; weeds have leaves, sometimes big, sometimes small.
It’s true; weeds have flowers, sometimes yellow, sometimes shades of purple.
It’s true; all weeds grow seeds. When the seed is ready, a gentle wind or a lively bird scatter the seed all over the nearby land. Suddenly where there once was a weed, now there are a dozen, growing all over the nearby land.
It’s true, weeds are green. It’s true they need no care, no fertilizer, no pruning, no water hose. Still weeds take over, invading the grass and crowding it out.
Weeds, green as they can be, flowers they may have, no care they need to grow. Still weeds are weeds. Sorry old wise gardener. I don’t need them, nor do I want them. But it’s a losing battle. Weeds grow and prosper, welcome or not.