There were two dragons in the meadow and the townspeople were fearful. It was said that if a dragon looked you in the eye, you would die a fiery death. The townspeople wanted to take no chances. They wanted to strike before danger came to them. They were hoping to rush in with their weapons and destroy the dragons when they weren’t looking, with help from their neighbors in the closest village. They’d gathered their spears and axes, pitchforks and swords and contacted the neighboring village’s leader with signals, but there was neither answer, nor action from atop the hill.
Instead, all that the people in the town could do was keep watch and wait. They assigned their bravest and strongest warriors to the dangerous task while they kept safe indoors. The two dragons were looking in opposite directions – one looked to the north and the other looked to the south. They were keeping the townspeople at bay and thus preventing an attack, and they were at the same time thwarting any possible rescue attempt from the neighboring village up the hill by keeping those villagers in their place as well.
The children in the meadow town could not stop staring at the dragons, even though their parents were pulling them away, closing doors and windows, and anxiously swatting at their offspring to protect them from the glint of a dragon eye. But there was something magnetic and mysterious, something magical about the dragon pair that fascinated the children.
The brave watch keepers noticed something too, but they were not filled with wonder like the children. Their response was one of fear, for they did not understand. The two dragons stood as still as stone, maintaining their position that afternoon and into the evening with nary a movement. It was as if they were frozen in place, rooted mysteriously to the spot where they stood.
The warriors felt that an attack was imminent, but the children were so eager to see any movement that they created it. The young ones squealed whenever one of them shouted to point out some rustling, a wing twitch, or perhaps the flick of a tail. But the movements were imagined, vivid only in the minds of the children.
At dawn the next morning the villagers awoke, relieved that no attack had taken place overnight. They cautiously looked out to check on the dragons, and on the watchmen who had been bravely at their post all night. What they saw changed the meadow people forever. They saw the watchmen asleep, curled up at the feet of the two dragons, who now bowed their heads gracefully to shelter the men from the morning’s heavy dew.
The adults were dumbstruck and disbelieving as they tried to understand what they were looking at. But the children, oh the children! They whooped and hollered, jumping up and down excitedly. Then they rushed out of their houses and onto the meadow, running through the high grasses and getting soaked in the process. Giddy, they clasped hands and circled the two dragons and the sleeping watchmen. They danced round and round and round, laughing and shouting and believing in magic!
Oh, the power of weeds! How I delight in them. Dear weed lovers, I wish for you a magical day and night and a morning full of sparkly dew!
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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