The Weed
A gardener was preparing to remove a weed that was growing right beside one of the most special plants in the garden, when he seemed to hear something similar to a voice inside the weed that said:
“No, please don’t pull me out! Let me carry on living!” The gardener was confused.
“Perhaps my imagination is playing tricks on me.” He thought, while watching the weed with astonishment. “Or perhaps this plant has something to show me. If I talk to my trees and plants, why should they not talk to me?” he asked himself.
He decided not to remove the weed even though in time it would grow until its leaves completely covered the prized plant.
One afternoon in May, a violent storm unleashed itself, and a strong hailstorm ruined a large part of the garden. After the storm, the gardener walked amongst the deformed flowers and torn leaves, grumbling with resignation about what had happened. He nearly did not dare look when he arrived at the place where the prized plant was to be found.
But to his surprise, it was still intact, while the weed that covered it lay ruined at his feet. The gardener looked with tenderness at the weed that he had tried to pull out, and thinking it over said to himself in a low voice.
“Sometimes what appears to be ugly, inharmonious and perverse performs wonderful tasks that the most beautiful of creatures would never be capable of.
From ‘The Gardener’ by Grian
A gardener was preparing to remove a weed that was growing right beside one of the most special plants in the garden, when he seemed to hear something similar to a voice inside the weed that said:
“No, please don’t pull me out! Let me carry on living!” The gardener was confused.
“Perhaps my imagination is playing tricks on me.” He thought, while watching the weed with astonishment. “Or perhaps this plant has something to show me. If I talk to my trees and plants, why should they not talk to me?” he asked himself.
He decided not to remove the weed even though in time it would grow until its leaves completely covered the prized plant.
One afternoon in May, a violent storm unleashed itself, and a strong hailstorm ruined a large part of the garden. After the storm, the gardener walked amongst the deformed flowers and torn leaves, grumbling with resignation about what had happened. He nearly did not dare look when he arrived at the place where the prized plant was to be found.
But to his surprise, it was still intact, while the weed that covered it lay ruined at his feet. The gardener looked with tenderness at the weed that he had tried to pull out, and thinking it over said to himself in a low voice.
“Sometimes what appears to be ugly, inharmonious and perverse performs wonderful tasks that the most beautiful of creatures would never be capable of.
From ‘The Gardener’ by Grian
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