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 my post last week about crop rotation, I covered the very basics: moving plants from year to year helps preserve soil fertility and prevent pest problems. But as you might know, some plants are closely related to each other, and that complicates matters a little bit.

To help illustrate the related plants, I've adapted this list below from a great list at a University of Illinois Extension website:

Nightshade family: tomato, pepper, eggplant, potato, tomatillo
Onion family: onions, garlic, leek, shallot, chives
Squash family: cucumbers, muskmelon, watermelon, squash, pumpkin, gourd
Mustard family: cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, kohlrabi, turnip, radish, Chinese cabbage, kale, collards, mustard greens, rutabaga
Legume family: garden pea, snow peas, snap peas, sweet peas, snap beans, lima beans, soybean
Grass family: sweet corn, popcorn, ornamental corn
Carrot family: carrots, parsnip, parsley, celery, dill
Goosefoot family: beet, Swiss chard, spinach
Sunflower family: lettuce, Jerusalem artichoke, endive, salsify, sunflowers
Mint family: mint, basil, lemon balm, catnip

Now, how do you use this information? Well, the plants that are in the same family should be treated like a single type, in the sake of rotation. For instance, you might have this row order;

Year 1
Potato (Nightshade)
Cucumber (Squash)
Pumpkin (Squash)
Carrots (Carrot)
String beans (Legume)

For year two, instead of moving all the plants one row down, you'd want to take into account your two squashes - so move everyone two rows instead.

Year 2
Carrots (Carrot)
String beans (Legume)
Potato (Nightshade)
Cucumber (Squash)
Pumpkin (Squash)

Many gardeners don't plant in rows, but instead in blocks or even just zones. That's fine, too. In that case, to help you remember where you've placed things in the previous year, a garden journal is helpful. Otherwise, you might be staring into a lovely field of fresh soil in April saying, "Now was it last year that I had zucchini here, or two years ago? Hmm...."

No bur is a friendly bur, but we have a variety of bur (or burr, depending on your taste for repeated consonants) here in central Texas that are colloquially referred to as "goatheads" and are basically armor-piercing plant husks that want to hurt you more than anything else. They puncture bicycle tires and feel like stepping on long, sharp tacks, designed as though they wished to nourish the nascent embryo with drops of fresh blood.

They were my introduction to the idea that a wild lawn like ours (seeded decades ago and only half-heartedly maintained) could not be walked in barefoot for several months out of the year.


The plant goatheads come from, Tribulus terrestris, is an Old World plant that is naturalized to the Americas, and also goes by the name goathead as well as puncture vine, yellow vine, and caltrop. It likes warmth and low moisture, and once it makes it's mark it is hard to get rid of because the seed is viable for 3-7 years.

Oddly, there is a person who is prepared to offer these seeds in trade. Maybe you could send the person a vial of skunk scent in exchange for them.

That said, they are lovely little pieces of natural weaponry, and in fact they have been weaponized: In southern Africa, goatheads have been smeared with the poisonous juices of another plant and scattered where a victim is expected to walk.

From the Onion opinion desk this week comes a column by Bur #318 entitled "I Have Completed Stage One Of Our Plan To Take Over The World." An excerpt:

Stage One, Sequence B: I have successfully attached myself to the host sock. As planned, the 100 percent cotton sock proved suitable for my naturally adhesive hooks. In this regard, our calculations were beyond sound - they were flawless. Prior concerns that wind resistance might prematurely dislodge me from the sock were entirely unfounded. The denim pant leg adjacent to the host sock acted as a protective barrier, holding me firmly in place for the duration of the journey.

Stage One, Sequence C: By my best estimate, I have successfully traveled 3.45 miles from Parent Organism Beta 51.2-6. I now sit at a prime vantage point from which to colonize the surrounding hills and meadows. Contact with foreign soil forthcoming.

If goatheads wrote a column, the text would read something like "Kill! Kill!"

I dislike lawn care, but I also dislike having a lawn covered in flesh penetrating devices.

We have never gone the route of pre-emergent pesticides with our lawn in the several years we've lived in our home - in part because we avoid toxic chemicals where we can and haven't done the research to figure out what's the least harmful effective option, and in part because we like the idea of a lawn "ecosystem" instead of a monoculture, which makes sense to us even more because we live in the country on two acres, which means a range of biomes beyond the basic "lawn" area. We like the idea of xeriscaping, but even this would be done in stages - two acres is a lot of space - and we may like to have some small patch of lawn when we're done, especially if it is not one that attacks us for several months out of the year.

Anyone have some simple suggestions for helping our lawn fend off these pointy invaders?

Top image by Karate Putter, shared via Flickr.