The Rain Came And Went; Now It's Sunny

We've had a couple days of rain, especially yesterday, with more on the way. Right now, it's sunny and bright; you can almost hear the grass slurping in the water and adding an inch or two. The slightly louder noises are weeds doing the same things, only on a larger scale. If you have a garden or anything other than a cement or asphalt walkway at your house, you're probably picking weeds right about now.

Someone said that a weed is a plant for which we haven't found a use. Discover a purpose for it and it ceases to be a troublesome weed; it is now a valued source of medicine, or extract for our food. Or something useful. But it's not a pesky weed anymore.

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The students left last week after their final exams and the dumpster behind the dorm was filled with junk of all descriptions. Some of it actually can't be described. I think it was stuff that got shoved into a corner and stayed their, unnamed and unnamable, until semester's end.

Junk, like weeds, is something for which we don't have a use. For a while, we used to joke about how junkyards are now called "recycling centers," but it's true enough. It ceases to be junk when someone looks at it and says, "Hey, I can use this." I have told people that a burned-out fuse is excellent for putting into three-bulb standing lamps when one of the bulbs is missing; the fuse is busted anyway and when it is screwed into the bulb holder, you can't accidentally put your finger in there and get hurt.

I joke that my grandmother had a cigar box labeled, "Pieces of string too small to save." She didn't, really, but I bet someone does, against the day that there is a use for them. Maybe to put in a sock with some catnip for the cat to play with.
Eventually, we will find there's no such thing as weeds, just as there will be no such thing as junk.