Native. Restored. Good.
A constant vigil from one season to the next.
The enemy lies in wait, sneaking around every rock, under every root.
Ready to spring into invasive action, unable to retreat.
Aha, I say.
I see you, Mustard. And you, Cheat. And you, Broad Leaf.
I am the defender in this canyon.
Be gone.
Let nature live long.
Most mornings with coffee in hand I pick weeds out of our flower beds. We do everything to prevent them but nevertheless they find us. They seem to out smart us at every turn.