In Concrete

Many years ago the workers sweated in the hot summer sun as they poured the concrete, taking special care to keep it level, smooth and well blended so they could make a pathway that would last for generations. Their work was hard but what they made that day would last forever.

The plants and living things bemoaned the plowing over of their land by the grey sludge that would harden into stone and replace them. But one green tendril watched from afar and was attracted to the idea of being preserved and part of the path forever. After the workmen were done for the day she harnessed the wind and dropped down into the wet sludge before it hardened. She laid in the tacky sludge and let her stem and leaves sink down to make deep impressions and solidify her form.

When the weeds and flowers and trees saw their friend caught in the concrete they were dismayed and sad at her passing. But when fall came and the winds came and blew many of them away, the ones that remained looked upon her concrete mark as a memorial and a sign that spoke of hope and permanence. So the next spring, and the spring after that, for years to come, weeds and flowers and trees alike looked down upon the weed mark in the concrete with pride.

The workers were striving for smoothness  and uniformity. But this weed in the concrete is more than an imperfection in workmanship. She is the captured still impression of nature, of what came before and what will come after the sidewalks in this modern world have long ago crumbled. She is also a mark of fancy, a bit of whimsy for children or weed loving gals to discover whilst out window shopping in a quant little town called Montrose, California.

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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