Weeding the Garden common weeds sprawl outstretched to me: spurge, henbit, cocklebur, red dead nettle nursery-rhyme names that remind me of my mother she wanted me to know their names to know that even the lowliest living things are named my work releases childhood smells: bitter, oaky, earthy breath, the squeaking protests of stems who do not agree with my claim to cultivate there’s a kind of love in tending weeds, in knowing their names
Edie Meade is a writer, artist, and mother of four in Huntington, West Virginia. She is passionate about literacy and collects books like they’re going out of style. Say hi on Twitter @ediemeade or https://ediemeade.com/.
Grand Little Things 