I fret over too many things that are well beyond my control. I fret over my mother’s health and the upcoming election. I fret over traffic, truth, and the demise of a 35 year old turntable. Feral cats, students, my squinky eye, or just about anything can hijack my brain and set it to spinning a recording of worries that is not productive. To counteract this ridiculous loop, I turn to something that I can control: weeds. I pull weeds, and I try to meditate as I do so. Yep, weeding is meditation. I select one part of the yard and start pulling. Today it was the front path and the thin planting bed next to the house. I pulled with my fingers or with the fork and yanked those suckers. I gave the pulled weeds the name of a problem and dropped them in an empty kitty litter bucket. At the end of about an hour, I had cleaner planting beds, a clearer head, and a tiny sense of control. But I have really dirty fingernails.
Published by Katherine Saxby
A veteran English and French teacher, an optimistic but negligent gardener, and an adventurous vegetarian cook, Katherine is always looking for ways to improve her lesson plans, her accent, her pie crust, and everything else (including her waistline). Even though her younger, thinner self thought that she would have most of the answers by the time she reached her fifties, Katherine still responds to queries and challenging situations with “Let's think about that” or “I don't know; let's find out”. She employs these phrases in her classroom and in the 107 year old house she shares with two cats and the patient, creative architect who is her husband. View all posts by Katherine Saxby