Thistles

I awake to a quiet house. It rained all night. Heavy drops drip from the maple outside our bedroom window onto a glass-topped patio table. Our lawns lie in thick carpets from recent rains. Delphiniums have grown tall enough to peek over the fence.

Weeds like rain too. A few orange topped thistles peek from behind the hostas in the side garden. If I could banish anything from earth, it would be thistles. They spoil beautiful scenes and then stab you needle-sharp when you try to pull them from the ground.

If I were able to ban thistles, soon a thistle-lover would march through the street with banners reading, Save the Thistles.

Whatever opinion we have on a subject, someone will have an opposite opinion. What one of us hasn’t been sitting with a group in conversation when someone expresses a view contrary to ours? And we think, “Is he nuts? How could a sensible guy like him have such an off-the-wall opinion like that?” 

Sometimes I’d like to remove all opinions but mine from the earth. Then the world would, like my garden, have only the flowers I like. And no thistles. But, I like people and have a strong desire to get along so I tolerate opposing opinions. I don’t say things like, “What’s wrong with your head?” even if I’m thinking it.

But I do say “off with your heads” to the thistles in my garden.