Dear You,
As occupations go, scarcely any I recommend less enthusiastically than weeding. While I recognize some of the pleasures of gardening (the world benefits from, and is the more beautiful for, flowers; and I know several people who actually enjoy growing some of their own food) agriculture is impossible without the regular extirpation of weeds.
I seldom approach this task, however necessary, reluctantly if not humbly on my knees, a vicious-looking little hand rake nearby. This tool, however, is rarely needed, since as if to know they are unwanted the weeds root shallowly, and they yield easily to the tugging. The pile grows beside me, these unnamed dead. I do not bother learning their names -- genus: weeds. Enough said.
It is a thankless task. The fruits of all my labor end ignominiously in a trashbin, tomorrow to be hauled away to the landfill -- a sort of vegetative Potter's Field. I wash my hands of the entire matter.
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