I Met a Thistle
The burning sting of my brush with a thistle, a plant that had quietly kept to its own existence until our paths crossed, has left me acutely aware of its presence now - there - alongside the path.
Do I kick it and rub my boot’s heel over it to smear its stems in separation from its roots so that it will not grow again for a while? Do I pour chemicals onto it, burning it into non-existence so that I have a better walk past that space in the future? Or do I let it be? All are fair questions. I have a concern when it comes to using chemicals on the farm, so that answer is easily settled as: No. No chemicals. But what about the other questions?
They each lead to the same result in the long run: The re-emergence of the thistle. Yes, one could argue that by separating it from its root, I am limiting the germination of the flowering that would yield more thistles for the next season. Why are we so scared of thistles?
I know I’m supposed to be weary of their exponential growth. I have been so informed. But why? What is it about a thistle that is so frustrating?
Thistle’s Full Life Story
There was a particular Summer at the farm, where I noticed a hamlet of thistles off the dirt path leading down to the hay barns and water troughs of the cattle. I was so glad to have my phone handy to take some photographs of the beauty scene. The longer I looked at the little congregated plants, the more I noticed that there was a clear, all-at-once-offering of visually displaying different stages in the life of a thistle.
Before long, I found myself crouched down on my haunches, observing little details about a plant that I thought I had always avoided to get to know - just a pest of a thing that needs to be eradicated. I remembered a brief encounter with a thistle in Scotland well over a decade ago.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to HOME by BlueGray Downs to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.