I’m in a great battle. My adversary is the foxtail. These weeds that look so green and engaging in the spring become a bitter enemy as they turn hay yellow and grow sharp barbs by early summer.
The only way to successfully defeat the foxtail is to grab it firmly at the base and pull out the entire root. If you mow or just pull out the tassels, the foxtail returns with a vengeance and the problem escalates over time.
So yesterday I’m on my hands and knees pulling out hundreds of these weeds that have invaded our property.
It’s not exciting work, so my mind wanders to my past. Early in my life, I had my own form of foxtails. I was not robustly honest in dealing with people who loved me. I used alcohol to hide my fears. I blamed others for my “bad luck.”
When I got pricked by the barbs of my foxtails, I would just yank at the tops rather than get at the roots of my negative behavior. My foxtails just grew stronger.
Over time, smart people explained I needed to pull out the entire root.
I did.
Thank goodness.