“When are you going to cut your jungle?” asked my wife Melanie with a sardonic voice. I hadn’t heard her coming over the wet soft spring grass. Winter was over and I was leaning against the sunny west side of our hardy-plank garage in SW Houston. I contemplated a fleshy plant, which had recently appeared growing from a heap of rotting grass in our back garden. With huge watery stems, fanning leaves, the plant had grown some six feet tall.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “It won’t be hard to cut this plant. It will take five, six well-aimed strikes with my machete to clean the area. But I don’t feel like cutting this plant yet. Who knows, it might be in flower soon, and attract humming birds and butterflies.”

I didn’t believe my words, but I felt I had to say something. In truth I felt lazy, and didn’t want to do any yard work.

“Do as you like,” said Melanie. “But don’t let it get out of hand.” She turned around, and went back to the clothes-line.

I forgot the plant for a few days, until yesterday. It had grown another foot in height, and was even more impressive.

To my happy amazement, the plant was now covered by hundreds of flower buds, and four had opened up – gentle, pretty pink flowers of the malvae family. It will become a feast for butterflies, and bees, soon.

This little experience made me think. How often did I, did we cut a plant we didn’t know it existed, or didn’t know it might ever blossom? If I hadn’t held back my hand, I would never have seen this pretty flower blossom. Isn’t it wonderful to see butterflies feeding on flowers, and cherish the thought of one’s actions (or non-actions) being part of the marvel?

Perhaps it is wise to give nature and us the benefit of doubt.

© 2004 by Franz L. Kessler