Pacific Grass
Pacific Grass

Weeds wave at me wherever I go, even to the ends of the earth.

The grass grew tall and wild at the edge of the ocean. It was the last of the green, and after it the sand and then the endless waters that pounded the earth, drawing some away and bringing it back with angry purpose. When the opportunity presented itself the grasses joined others with long green tresses and grouped together in clumpy, hippie-like hillocks. There they bonded by tossing their longest strands in the air and waving at passing cars. It was like flashing peace signs while wearing tie dyed clothing, only more green. The wild grasses enjoyed their celebrity worthy location and the pristine view at the end of the fertile earth. They felt the force of nature in the unrelenting wind and the cold sea spray.

The stormy days and nights came and went and the wild grasses weathered it all, withstanding gale force winds and burns from salt spray and sun. They knew the harsh conditions were worth it because they were part of the vista, and they, meek, humble grasses were powerful enough to lend perspective to the Pacific Ocean.

They knew they were lucky.

Here’s to a celebration of the small wild things that hold their own in the face of the immense and the overwhelming. Here’s to the small ones who stand their ground and push ahead even when the winds threaten to topple them. Here’s to the toppled ones who turn their bending into dances. Here is to beginnings.

The ocean stated as a small drop of water. The weeds started as a tiny seed, and every success starts as a tiny idea. Many blessings, all! May you hold your ground and keep on growing.

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.

Unauthorized use, distribution and/or duplication of any of this material without the express written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited.

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