For many people, a weed is a weed and it’s unwanted and needs to die. Now that I have my own yard and gardens (and a much more expansive understanding of the ecosystem), I have a much more complicated relationship with weeds. Like many other avid gardeners, I feel a weed is just a plant out of place. I don’t even like the word “weed” - I think it’s kind of speciesist.

But without going too deep into the eco-philosophy, I am faced with “out-of-place plants” every growing season. For example, the ubiquitous dandelion. We pick our dandelions with a Weed Hound (if you don’t have one, and you have dandelions you want to get rid of, I highly recommend one). Our daughters have said it was unfair in the past when we’ve passed yards filled with dandelions. They love making crowns and necklaces from the bright, golden blooms - and better yet, making wishes before blowing on the seed heads. Still, dandelions aren't very comfortable to walk on with bare feet or roll around in, so we opt for grass instead of a yard full of dandelions. It really has to be one or the other.

In our gardens, there’s also a battle with tree propagation - the pods and helicopters drop by the pound and any open soil becomes a breeding ground. These are ripped from the ground as soon as they sprout. I know there’s a big environmental push to plant more trees and I completely understand how important trees are and I love trees. I just really have no space to spare for any more trees in my small, urban patch of Earth.

But one of the most difficult “weeds” I have to deal with is clover, which grows rampant in our yard, choking out our favorite perennials. I used to yank it all. Then, one glorious summer day, my oldest daughter, who was four then, came up to me chewing, with a fistful of clover in her hand. Her face was literally glowing with enjoyment. “Mmmmmm,” she moaned, “sweet, juicy clover.”

My daughter has been a clover-hunter ever since. There’s a certain variety with a purple-hued leaf that’s her favorite.

Our weeds have become her salad bar. Over time, I’ve grown to appreciate the look of clover. Maybe my daughter’s bliss combined with the legend of the four-leaf clover and the childhood dream of finding one has converged to create a new affinity for the plant. It is quite lovely. Really, is this a weed?


The simple, rounded foliage creates a nice balance to the rocks. They're really not drastically different from the creeping thyme I've been planting as a ground cover. A similar aesthetic.

Anyway, my daughter's almost nine now and she’s still a clover aficionado. She has also taught her younger sister to forage for clover and the sweet taste of success. And, while I used to think it a bit odd, I’ve increasingly seen clover on entrees at gourmet restaurants. In fact, my husband just took me out for dinner the other night for my birthday and I found it on top of my marvelous goat cheese ravioli with pine nuts and fava beans. Mmmmmm. It was sweet, juicy clover, with a delicate freshness that counterbalanced the other flavors magically.

A gentle reminder: Kids will put almost anything in their mouths. Start teaching them young, very young, that they should ask you before sampling any plant, "weed" or otherwise.

So, is clover a weed? Not to our family.

But I’m not sure about this:


Seriously, anyone know what this is?

Find more from Janelle at Healthy Child Healthy World, WebMD, MomsRising and on Twitter.

In Seattle, the city has found ways to reduce the maintenance costs for its small pocket parks: Invite in gardeners.

The tiny park in Ballard pictured here has just enough public space for about four small families to picnic. There's a postage-stamp lawn, and a pair of paved brick "gathering spaces" at either end of the lawn. There's a nice promenade entrance up a heavily landscaped wheelchair ramp.

The rear of the park is populated by less than a dozen community garden plots. The public is welcome to walk through these veggie gardens, but the produce is owned by the gardeners themselves. In exchange, the gardeners maintain the landscaping in the more public part of the park.


All this community on less than 5000 square feet.

Is it ethical to harvest someone else's fruit, if it's hanging over the public sidewalk? We urbanites tend to be sensitive to each other's boundaries. I can hear my neighbor's toilet flush, after all. And so, we construct imaginary boundaries, invisible lines over which we don't cross.

But fruit is delicious, and thus merits special treatment. Here's my rule of thumb. If fruit hangs over a public space, like a sidewalk or park, it's fair game. If I have to reach my arm over a fence, that's trespassing.


The persimmons were barely legal.

NPR's Day to Day had an interesting story a while back about this form of foraging. Personally, I wouldn't feel justified in fetching a ladder. Even though the fruit 15 feet above the sidewalk is available, a ladder would make me look like a thief, or a peeping tom. Luckily, I found that I could fold up my umbrella stroller, and holding it high above my head, pluck the fruit without compromising my air of confidence. In such circumstances, one's soul should appear spotless.


Even I would not harvest these figs.

I try not to go overboard. I limit myself to a single fruit, or perhaps three if we're talking about Italian prunes. I avoid perfect apples for fear of pesticides. And I never take the last fruit.

Of course, the polite thing to do is knock on the door and ask. But sometimes they're not home, or you can't be bothered.

Some may be bothered by my cavalier attitude. For those humbugs, I recall the fodder radishes I grew as a cover crop last year.


One of them in the parking strip grew to several feet tall. I was just about to harvest one to feed to my chickens, when an elderly woman walked by. "Oh, I love that plant," she said in a thick Eastern European Accent. "What was it?"

"It's a fodder radish," I said.

"It's delicious. I take the leaves and cook them. My husband loves them."

She never thanked me for the leaves she'd stolen. She didn't seem to feel any explanation was required. And somehow, I didn't mind. I left the fodder radish in the ground an extra month before I pulled it out.

How about you? Do you have trees that overhang a sidewalk or street, or harvest from someone else's? What's your take on the respectful harvesting of foodstuffs from other people's property?