Trina Machacek: If not you, who?
Don’t let the title stop you from continuing to read. It isn’t going to be what you expect. It’s not going to be about standing up or sitting down for this cause or that cause. It’s all about seeing there is something that needs to be taken care of and taking care of it. Whatever “it” is. And “it” happens a lot. For instance …
My friends know that I disapprove of weeds. I learned about weeds at a tender age when on Friday nights the sprinkler was set on my mother’s creation of a rock garden so we kids could get out there on Saturday mornings and pull the weeds. Ugh! Weeds have followed me all my life and now I find myself chasing the little devil parasites before they grow into seed spitting monsters casting their ill-gotten spawn to the four corners of my five acres! Now that spring has sprung, I am on the hunt and peck to keep ahead of all things pokey and prickly.
That’s where I was when I came up with my newest little saying aimed at myself, “If not you, who?” Which, while we are here, I give you leave to use as needed. Rest assured, you are going to need it somewhere along your life path, just as I do — daily, if not hourly.
Weeds dry out in the fall and blow around all winter eventually collecting in places they cannot escape from and that is where they lay and over time their little seeds fall off and burrow down planting themselves in the richness of Mother Earth. Thus, the circle of the life of a weed. But! Yes, a weedy “but.” But it is up to me as a landowner to head off this new infuriating growth, and that is where I found myself recently.
I spent a good day spraying weeds I thought I had it under control. There is lush green of lawn and brown desolation of non-lawn areas on my property. It’s going to be a good summer I was thinking with a light sigh. Nearly weed-free. Then I passed by a little alcove of a space between a storage shed and a set of steps. There I found a small gathering of dried sticks and broken weeds. I haphazardly gathered them up and headed for the nearest fence to throw them over. Shhhhh. Don’t tell anyone. That’s when I saw them. What I call two leaf-ers. Teeny tiny little sprouts of the seeds the weeds shed. Happily growing without fear of death because it is a little non-descript spot that is out of the way. Where things could grow and flourish. Well. Not on my watch.
As usual I was in a hurry though. I tossed the sticks to the wind and started to walk away. Even though I had spotted like 437 little two leaf-ers. Then it hit me. They will grow to be 437 full blown weeds if I don’t stop and kill ‘em. Thus, “If not you? Who?” slipped out of my mouth. OK, I might have added a short colorful word in there at some point. As I was walking away thinking I’d spray those weeds later, it hit me that if I didn’t do it how would it get done. That seems to be happening a little too often to me. OK, Trina. If not you, who? So I grabbed the sprayer I have at the ready — I mean, it’s not like I had to do much more than pick up a prefilled weed sprayer that I have sitting inside the shop door just for these types of occasions. I just had to grab it and spray that little alcove and get on with other things. It’s not an earth-shattering event. It’s not really even a ta-da moment. It was more like a push into that grown-up world that I more often than not find myself dragging my feet to become part of.
Throughout the next seasons of life, I am sure there will be more times where I will find things will need to be taken care of. Grown-up stuff will abound at every turn. But — ah, a double “but” this week! But as the numbers gain and years are added I still will not grow up. Never all the way.
Trina lives in Eureka, Nev. Follow her on Facebook, share with her at email@example.com. Really!