Lovely Weeds
by Ted Slater on 07/10/2009 at 2:11 PM
It was a hot, sunny day. School was out for summer, but while other children played and frolicked, my lot was a cruel one. We lived on one acre and most of what wasn't house was lawn. And as a direct result of Original Sin, dandelions, with their long taproots, had invaded that vast lawn. It was my fate to spend the morning, weeding fork in hand, removing them.
Every child begins life fond of dandelions. On that day, my fondness came to an abrupt end.
So begins yesterday's featured Boundless article, "Giving Thanks Amid the Dandelions," by Jim Tonkowich.
Over the course of the next 1,183 words, pulling from Chesterton and Heidegger, Tonkowich struggles to regain a child-like affection for this yellow weed. The journey is a fascinating, if not circuitous, one; here are a few more excerpts:
What a surprise that there should be dandelions and that there should be a me who, through no effort or merit of my own, happens to be here to see those dandelions. The only reasonable response is gratitude.
Summing up, Chesterton wrote that this is "the chief idea of my life.... That is the idea of taking things with gratitude, and not taking things for granted." And it was this chief idea that led Chesterton into the Christian faith, for gratitude is looking for someone to thank.
Tonkowich explains that presumption and despair always prevent gratitude. Boredom and the demand for entertainment are signs of despair. Presumption, what we often call entitlement, breeds a cultural mood of discontent that strangles gratitude in the cradle.
As I read the ensuing paragraphs, I felt the same ache, the same pain of loss that I felt when I first read George Halitzka's "Helicopter Seeds." Here's how Halitzka wrapped his thoughts:
Some 21 years have passed since I discovered the Helicopter Seeds, and now I'm much older, wiser ... harder. I stand on the edge of a hill above a grove of springtime maples, whose tiny seed packages still spin to the ground. I watch the precious cargos gently find the ground; whirl in an ecstatic dance of new life.
Most of the seeds fall in vain, the same as 21 years before; on rocks and weedy patches they will wither into nothingness. My hardened mind, which cares too much to care, wants to believe that a few of these seeds will live to canopy the forest floor and one day drop their own helicopters. But the odds are against a single one outlasting the snow.
So I watch them spin through the air in moments of glory that last only seconds. I imagine a few taking root against the odds, growing against all hope -- and finally dying.
But I find that I cannot focus on the cold mechanisms of biology. I almost start to cry, not because so many seeds will fail in vain ... but because in this moment the Helicopter Seeds are so, so beautiful.
Perhaps it doesn't matter that so many will never grow. Perhaps it is enough to see them fulfill a divine purpose. Perhaps the beauty is enough to make this breathless moment is its own reward. I even dare to imagine that maybe the seeds fall so I, and the God who made them, can be lost in childlike wonder again.
Or perhaps ... they fall for nothing. But as I reluctantly turn from the edge of beauty and walk towards my car, I try not to believe that.
So how does Tonkowich's article conclude? What might we make of the lowly dandelion, wonderflower of youth and nuisance of adulthood? There's but one way to find out.
1. Dave said the following at 3:38 PM on Jul 11:
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Dandelions can be rather tasty "weeds". The Wall Street Journal, for example, recently had an article about their culinary appeal.
Growing dandelions is the sort of agriculture that even bachelors can do ;)
2. BDB said the following at 9:28 PM on Jul 12:
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I find that Scotts Turf Builder 2Plus Weed Killer is an effective way to keep dandelions out of my lawn.
They still grow through the crack in my driveway...
3. Sarah P. said the following at 7:43 AM on Jul 13:
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C.S. Lewis in Weight of Glory:
"... Nostalgia and Romanticism and Adolescence; the secret also which pierces with such sweetness . . . Our commonest expedient is to call it beauty and behave as if that had settled the matter. . . . These things -- the beauty, the memory of our own past -- are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshippers. For they are not the thing itself . . . A man's physical hunger does not prove that that man will get any bread; he may die of starvation on a raft in the Atlantic. But surely a man's hunger does prove that he comes of a race which repairs its body by eating and inhabits a world where eatable substances exist."
Premonitions of Heaven -- to be accepted with joy and a bittersweet longing. :D
4. obewan said the following at 8:12 AM on Jul 13:
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I don't have to worry about weeds or dandelions - I live in a condo. I think they must spray for them, because I have lived there 4 years and never seen a single dandelion.
I get a really good deal. All landscape, pool, building, and trash care + insurance for only $160 a month. The insurance alone on a house in FL with hurricane coverage would exceed that.
And my weekends are mine to do with as I please doing things like cooking for singles potlucks!
5. Reedo said the following at 9:30 AM on Jul 13:
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Years ago Five Iron Frenzy (not everyone's cup o' tea, I realize) had a great song "Dandelions", and in this case we people, and our attempts to please God, are the dandelions that He mercifully treats like pretty flowers.
6. Samantha said the following at 2:27 AM on Jul 14:
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I have a theory that dandelions hold the key to curing cancer. There must be a reason God made so many of them.