So what is a weed?

Yes, what *is * a weed? Is it a strong plant whose growth cannot be kept under control? Is it flora that will grow anywhere, no matter what?

Here's a story I'd like to share with you; it happened a few years ago, but is very representive of how we think about plants. Clarissa Pinkola Estés writes about our wild nature in Women who run with the Wolves and asks how we came to a point where we love dogs and call them man's best friend but bash its wild ancestor, the big bad wolf. Same goes for plants: we all want a big garden but an amazing amount of money and time is spent on pesticides and weed control.

This is what happened, when I was in the woods, taking pictures of some enchanting moss:

Lady: Eh, excuse me... can I ask what you are doing? What is it that you are taking pictures of? Moss?
Me: Yes, I am making some close ups of moss.
Lady: Oh, I see. Well, as a matter of fact, you are right: it's quite extraordinary, moss, isn't it?
Me: Yes, it is.
Lady: The texture is so unique and those colors, especially after the rain... it's of such beauty that it's hard to put in words.
Me: I agree.
Lady: Yes, it's so wonderfull, moss.

(both of us silent for a while)

Lady: Except in the garden. Then it's a nightmare and the only right thing to do then is kill it.