The simple girl looked at him shyly, from across the barn yard. She lowered her eyelids and studied him quietly. Her face was dewy, soft and sweet, and her innocence intact. A blushed flowered her cheeks and she was lovely, simply lovely. The boy talked and laughed, and she watched him. As charmed as she might want to be by the young rough stranger, she was not willing to take a step forward, to give him any indication that he might be winning. Her feet shifted on the dusty ground where the chickens pecked.
The air was tingling, electric with excitement. Even the birds were hushed. He hopped up and down, prancing with the thrill of courting and she was as still as could be. She was on guard, thorns at the ready. She was looking, watching for something that would ring true to her. He told her a joke, a silly, grade school one, and he laughed at himself out of embarrassment. He’d been trying to play it so smooth.
There! She’d seen the glimmer of truth and she knew he was a good one. He was able to make fun of himself – he wasn’t all bluster and boldness!
His laughter died out and they held each other’s gaze. The silence of the late afternoon stretched out over the sun soaked fields. After a long stretch, a cow mooed low and the spell was broken. She, quicker than the eye could see, shifted her weight, smiled at him, and was off! Tumbling down the road with happiness in her heart. He gasped, surprised, and then tumbled after her. “Ah, my sweet Russian Thistle,” he gasped as his breath caught in his heart, tender and open with wanting.
The two tumbleweeds began their dancing and games of catch, hide and seek and tag, both knowing that the delight would be so much stronger once the race was over.
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.