Binge-Pulling the Weeds By Jane Farrell We’ve got a reality show going on in our back yard. It’s called Weed Apocalypse. Not the illegal type of weed, but the kind that “blooms” (if that’s the right word) every year, as if to remind us that nothing, not even spring, is without its drawbacks. I started binge-pulling the weeds last week, and after two hours had made a progress of, oh, a couple of feet. We’d put down some weed killer (no mercy here) and some “pre-emergent” treatment (stop them before they start), but the weeds appear to be winning. In fact, at the back of the yard they formed three even lines like enemy soldiers in a child’s game. Given that, there’s nothing to do but to get out the knee pad and start to work. During this task, my first since we’ve bought a house with a relatively large yard, I’ve discovered how hard weeds are to extract, how many little stones and how many little tiny insects live in their shadow (and these weeds have some pretty big shadows, let me tell you.) Long ago I learned what might seem like a weird lesson: If you have to do a task you hate, do it as carefully as possible or you will only have to do it over again. That’s why I dig as precisely as I can, and don’t worry too much about the time it takes me. This will not be done in a day or a week. So I’m digging with my little spade (I think that’s what it’s called; anyway, my spouse says it’s the right tool for the job); I’m making sure I get the whole root, and I’m neatly piling the weeds behind me so I can easily pick them up and stuff them into our lawn-waste bag. I made myself forget about the rows or weeds at the back of the year; I focus only on the one row of weeds in front of me. I think that’s what they call mindfulness. It works for me. Still wish that weed killer would work a little better, though!