THE BLOG
09/05/2014 05:57 pm ET Updated Nov 04, 2014

Once There Was a Far Away Garden Which Yielded Little Joy

Once there was a far away garden which yielded little joy. Predator plants thrived and crowded out and extinguished any notion of flowering beauty and hope. All of its seasons were as if winter followed winter, and it seemed that little resembling beauty would ever bloom.

And then a miracle.

A courageous bud pushed through the discouraging soil! And then another. And another. Yet another still. All who viewed this struggling-but-welcome early wishful transformation waited with a mix of great excitement and skeptical anxiety.

"Spring! Spring!"many declared with their hands planted deeply in their pockets. Something they had only hoped for was presenting itself before them, and they instantly sprung forth... with questions.

Some wanted to help. Some wanted to wait. "What should we do?" "Should we provide water?" "Should we invest in an irrigation system?" "Maybe we should wait, infrastructure is expensive." "Should we nurture it?" "Encourage it with fertilizer and mulch to help assure its survival?" "Our values demand we help."

"Slow down," offered others. "Who will run the garden if it takes?" "Wait, wait. What color flowers will they grow into? Which crops will dominate? " "Will it look like my garden?"

"Maybe it won't flourish. Who says the weeds won't come back. Maybe the new weeds will be worse!" "We can't save everyone's garden." "Let's wait and see if the garden succeeds before we help."

Only the arguments plowed on. So they provided no water. Nor did they nurture or weed. They watched and waited. But spring doesn't last forever. Comes autumn, the fall.

And the aggressive piraña plants started to return with a vengeance, and began to choke out the promising flowers.

Wither the garden.
Now some will say, "I told you so."
The others will boast the same.
Both with proven authority.
And while Winter will arrive on schedule for that joyless garden, not so for its next promise filled spring.
So what care I for that far off bed of weeds ?

Nothing I suppose lest some seasonal wind carry the seed of its invasive poisonous plants to my beloved farm.

Or do we have a missile for that?