One of my first tasks on Button Moon was to pick out the weeds from a sowing of wildflowers. I was stumped. Wildflowers. Weeds. Aren’t they the same thing? I was worried that my dumbfounded look was not impressing my new employers. Pickle the Jack Russell looked disappointed at my reticence. The silence was awkward.
Inaction was not an option. I did my best. We decided that the perennials were a disaster, mostly nasturtium and dandelion. The annuals more promising. Some were obvious, I shimmied around others.
This linum survived, as did many others. All beauties, none of them weeds, as few of us are in our mothers’ eyes.