On Falling in Love with a Weed at Pendle Hill:
A Letter to my Wife Kathleen
Dear One,
Today a flower caught my eye—a little yellow flower which grows everywhere here in Pendle Hill in the spring, and which I must have seen hundreds of times, but I’ve never paid any attention to it before. It’s the kind of flower you would have noticed and admired with the enthusiasm that I love so much in you. I can almost hear your “oohs” and “ahhs” of admiration.
As I sat outdoors with friends eating lunch, I looked out across the unkempt lawn and noticed that it was covered with little yellow flowers strewn about like clusters of stars.
“Does anyone know what these little yellow flowers are?” I asked.
“They’re buttercups,” someone said without much interest as she grazed on her salad.
“I’m pretty sure they’re not buttercups,” I replied. “Buttercups are round and when you put them under someone’s chin, you can tell if they like butter.”
The memory of buttercups brought smiles to both our faces, but still I wanted to know more about these yellow flowers with star-like petals and heart-shaped leaves. I asked again if anyone knew the flower’s name.
“It’s an invasive weed,” someone else said as if she were talking about an undesirable alien that had moved into the neighborhood. “We have to pull them up all the time in the garden. They’re a nuisance.”
“At least, they’re an attractive nuisance,” I replied.
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