
The mice traversed this land first. They ran in each other’s footsteps furtively, squeezing between the spaces in the branches that they saw could be opened. The rabbits and ground squirrels came next, widening the line with their length and their breadth. Then the foxes and coyotes smelled the good smells of rodents passing by, and they laid wait alongside the tracks, hiding in the brush. In moments of great excitement they pounced and left their mark at the spots where travelers were punished. Deer, who needed to forage in new places, used the route for their own needs and skipped ahead, leaping over rocks and along the edges of the mountainside, staying away from the predators who waited. Humans came and saw that there was a top to the mountain that they had to reach. They took the way for their own and dug into the earth with heavy footsteps in order to hike, alone and in groups. With each journey the trail grew more sure of itself.
The weeds patiently watched, season after season, and saw how the trail evolved. They knew it was in their nature to affect a change, even in rock. Their companions were wind and rain and the movements of the earth. The progress of the weeds was sure and steady, and with no predators to reduce their number, they grew strong enough to break rock. The weeds saw that there was a spot to be taken, and so they did.
Please come back tomorrow for a new “Weed Image of the Day” and let me know which ones you like.
We and our weeds are so much more than what we first appear to be.
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You’re so good at these little short stories. Love sitting here with my coffee
in the morning and read your little story for the day…. (-:
Thank you Aina! I’m really having fun “smithing” my words. Being still enough to hear the beginnings of a story and letting it come out. Have a terrific day!