I’ve suspected it but simply didn’t want to admit the truth. The massive 3 feet around plant taking up a prominent space in my front garden is a wildflower. Albeit a pretty and prolific one as it makes this purplish blue bells on tall stalks. But immediately upon finishing to bloom, the entire plant – stalks and all – go brown and die. Not a green leaf in sight.

I am tired of the tease. Such a hopeful growing spring of green that ends in dry brittle crackling brown. I want things that last in my garden and decided to yank it.

As soon as my shovel starts to get under the roots, I begin to doubt. The internal conversation I have goes like this…

This is going to turn my garden into a living representation of Sunnydale, CA after Buffy was done fighting evil.

Yes it will. But it needs to come out. It looks horrible and the entire garden is being planned around a lie.

But what will go into its place?

I don’t know. Something.

What?!

I don’t know. Whenever something comes, it will go there.

Well, how can you make this massive change without a plan?!!!

I just know that this is the right thing to do. Shut up and dig.

From there it was fun getting my fingernails all brown and noting how shallow the roots actually were and then having to hack the very flat, very wide root ball in half in order to get it out of the ground.

But on top of all that, I had an unmistakable feeling of connection – that the physical action was the mirror of an internal weeding – that I’ll probably have a big hole in my heart for awhile – but that if I waited and listened and imagined and watered enough, something amazing would get planted there too.

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