The past few days haven’t been particularly pleasant for me for reasons I prefer not to go into in such a public place. Generally speaking, though, they have to do with getting through the issues of my mother’s small estate.
This brings me back to the theme of this post: weeds.
This fellow stole burrito money from his boss, was hunted down by vigilantes, shot in the throat, and died the next day in Alliance, Nebraska. That marble Celtic cross marks his grave. A weed in life. Someone’s son. A stranger in these parts from Dallas, Texas, who stole a little money. The vigilantes (hoping to capitalize on their brand of capital punishment) self-styled themselves as the “Silver Dollar Boys”.
True story, folks. It happened in the early 20th Century in a sparsely settled part of Western Nebraska. I discovered it in the historic microfilm files of the local newspaper in the library. Silver Dollar Boys. Sound kind of weedy themselves.
The interest of the photo is the dandelion, a weed in the grass. Of course, it also shows my late cat Louie’s fine tail, nicely adding to the color composition and interest (I think!) of the photo. A bunch of dandelions makes a fine little kid’s bouquet of flowers for Mom. Grass. Dad has to spend his rare spare time from earning a living to water, fertilize, weed, and mow the dang stuff. Or maybe Mom does. Or maybe it becomes the dandelion bouquet-giving kid’s job once he or she can safely operate the power mower. Some question in my mind which is the weed here. Dandelion? Grass?
No idea what this weed’s name is, but it’s common along roadsides in disturbed soil or yards where grass hasn’t taken hold after an excavation for a broken water line (in this instance). Not much to it. It has this tiny lavender blossom, is kind of sprawly and wild-looking. Yet, from a distance, millions of them in bloom make a lovely lavender wash over the coming green of spring. Spectacular! A harbinger of good things to come. Hardly a weedy thing when viewed from afar. Or very close up.
I’m largely convinced we need the weeds to appreciate the full bounty of life. I’m just not happy with the current crop sprouting in the affairs of my Mom’s estate. Sometimes I just don’t feel like dealing with the weeds in life. I’m tired of it, and look forward to the day everything is complete so I can get on with happier things.
My last words of wisdom: Never name one of your children to be personal representative for your estate unless that child is a lawyer or CPA!