There is a creep in my garden soil. Oblivious to the mess it creates, it grows itself anew from a tiny piece of dried up and dead looking joint. Crab grass. I recently read an article about a few "weeds" which have jumped of their own accord on the GMO wagon. They no longer are deterred by Round Up, the "safe" herbicide and yes, Crabgrass is one of them. So now in the Amazon Basin, and in our own back yards, we have the brilliant strain of Crabgrass. What to do? Surrender and just mow it? Harvest it and stuff our mattresses with it? Make skirts? Hats? Weave place mats and throw rugs? Make brooms? Twist it into belts and bracelets and dog collars? Why, a whole new industry may arise, as there must be a way to sell it to some one. We could make thatched roofs and table runners, upholstery fabric. We could make nests. Maybe Crabgrass will save us, as we become creative with its fibrous and miraculous tenacity.
Swallowtail Butterflies are fresh and new by the first of April. Larabee is a hidden valley created by the Eel River. Perhaps I have lived here since time began, a butterfly in the willows on the banks of a Northern river.