Tag Archives: weeds

Corn

Corn: (n) a tall cereal plant having a jointed, solid stem and bearing the grain, seeds, or kernels on large ears.

I tried to get lost in America.

Many times.

Although I visited every large city, there were occasions in my touring, travels and interaction with the populace that I purposely placed myself deeper and deeper into smaller and smaller regions.

It was enlightening.

It was invigorating to drive down a country road at twilight and not see a building taller than two stories for ten miles in any direction.

What I could never escape was corn.

It’s everywhere.

I judged my tours by its growth.

I began each tour traveling when little, tiny green heads were barely popping out of the earth.  Matter of fact, someone would have to point out that the “field over there” was corn, because it looked like a promising acre of weeds.

Time passed.

I logged some more numbers on my odometer, and now the green weed was nearly knee high—often before the fourth of July.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

But it still didn’t look like much.

More travel, more little towns. More diners which surprised me with a particular delicacy that tickled my fancy.

The corn just kept growing.

Pretty soon you could make out tiny ears sprouting, getting ready to hear further instructions from Mother Nature.

And then—all at once—there were huge fields of it in all directions. Corn stalks blowing in the breeze, chock-full of magnificent cobs, ready for the munching.

It was delicious.

But it was also forewarning—the warmth in the air was soon to be replaced, and traveling gypsies like me needed to find warmer climates, and spend my time watching the oranges grow.


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Ashen

Ashen: (adj) (of a person’s face) very pale with shock, fear, or illness.dictionary with letter A

Whatever we plant grows.

I know there may be weeds. Sometimes the seeds don’t sprout quickly. But the truth of the matter is, what is sown eventually does reap.

I’ve been thinking about this.

I have casually made jokes, or even been careless in my speech with my fellow-humans under the guise of being honest or just joking around, never coming to the full comprehension that the little seed I plant is very easily watered and can grow.

A lady came up to me just three months ago and told me that I looked “ashen.” Of course, she couldn’t stop there. She said I should probably go to the doctor to have my liver checked. Actually, all I needed was a good night’s sleep, but the seed was planted.

It was so deeply engrained in my mental earth that when I saw the word “ashen” today, the incident came to my mind. She probably thought she was doing me well by warning me of my pale complexion, but actually she just stirred an insecurity in me which sprouted some overgrowth.

All of us are occasionally going to be foolish in our wording, but when we realize that we’ve planted something inside another person, we should probably take the time to let them know it needs to be extracted.

I just don’t know what good it does for someone to know that they’re ashen–because to run off to a doctor every time one’s pallor goes meek would leave one little time for anything else.

 

 

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Abzug

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abzug: Bella (1920-98) U.S. politician, lawyer and women’s rights activist. She helped to found Women Strike for Peace in 1961. Serving in Congress as a Democrat from New York, she fought for the rights of women and the poor.

Sometimes progress is so slow that we actually fail to notice that it’s going on. It is the short-sighted part of the human race that often makes us unsuitable for either the jungle or the boardroom.

But when I thought about Bella Abzug, fond memories returned. She was not exactly what you would call an attractive woman. Generous folks would have referred to her as “handsome,” and less gratuitous comments could have included “homely.”

I am certainly glad she was not around for this 24-hour news cycle, where her appearance would have been ridiculed in an attempt to render her words ineffective. That’s what we do nowadays, you know. When we are unable to contradict the objections of an intelligent spirit which has stormed into our presence, we make the attacks personal so as to dismiss their effectiveness by pointing out their physical oddities.

No, I am sure Bella Abzug would have been joked about as the classic lesbian, or mocked as someone’s “ugly grandmother.”

Often it takes people like Bella to come along to plant the seeds of discontent in order for some weeds of frustration to grow up in the midst of our neat little “social garden,” and bring attention to the fact that not everybody is going to be a “cute tomato.”

We need her. We actually need MORE like her.

I, for one, am sick and tired of only listening to people I’m supposed to agree with, who make sure that their language is so sterile that it can neither offend nor instruct.

Bella said some tough things. Bella was brash. Bella was angry. Bella believed that anger was a good thing when it was vented against stupidity.

I don’t know if a Bella Abzug could exist in our present society. We would probably put her in a back office somewhere and make her the speechwriter for some blond bimbo who could more easily acquire the vote. I don’t know if we would ever allow her a microphone, a platform or an opportunity to spit fire in our faces.

But it’s because Bella Abzug lived that women today have the opportunity to argue about their positions and be heard–because so many years ago, she pointed out the fallacy in a system that was convinced of its infallibility.

Sometimes we need to stop and be grateful for the people who live, breathe, fight and die, never seeing their dreams come to fruition. Because of their plantings and hard work, the garden still has a chance to grow.

Because of their lives, we still have a chance to overcome our ignorance.

Abutilon

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abutilon: (n.) a herbaceous plant or shrub of the mallow family, native to warm climates and typically bearing showy yellow, red, or mauve flowers.

Have you ever read anything and thought to yourself, “I didn’t get that? ”

So you read it again, and you come to the conclusion that you’re never going to get it.

I have absolutely no idea whatsoever what this plant–the Abutilon– would look like. I have to admit, I got a little stalled by “herbaceous.” I envision a kind of green, thistly thing growing out of the ground with very little purpose, considered by those who possess thumbs which are green, as a weed. But you see, often plants like that have only one survivable tactic–a single aspect that separates them from being a big, green, ugly stem: they sprout a flower.

I remember when I was a kid, I came running into the house with a whole bouquet of dandelions, freshly picked from our yard. My mother took them from my hands, threw them in the trash and said, “Those are weeds. We usually spray and kill them.”

I was devastated. To me they were pretty yellow flowers.

Do you ever wonder what makes us determine what is productive and what is cast aside? Are dandelions worthless because they grow in grass, which we want to be totally green, and they interrupt the spectrum by introducing yellow? And what is the nature of this plant–the Abutilon? I will never think about it EVER again. I KNOW I won’t.

But perhaps in an attempt to apologize for its herbaceous, bush-like nature, it sprouts a flower. That’s nice.

Maybe if everything that was a little bit ugly sprouted a flower, it would have a much better chance for acceptance.

Yet to be honest with you, I return to the fact that the entire definition for this particular plant baffled me from the onset and continues to leave me befuddled.