Response 2: A Weed By Any Other Name

Nancy Gift's book was, in all its simplicity, a bit of a mystery to me.  I found it quite interesting, but was also asking myself throughout my reading what exactly her mission was--why she wrote it, and for whom.  Scholars?  Scientists?  You or me?  I had trouble placing it as a literary work in my mind, in the larger context of literature.  What is this book?  Clearly, it's nonfiction--but I found it to be, overall, more anecdotal than creative or scientific--partially because of Gift's conversational (yet informative) writing style and tendency to digress.  I don't know if I'd call this creative nonfiction--while it did get reflective from time to time, I could not really say there was much, if any, scene--rather, Gift's experiences with weeds were primarily summarized and speculated.  That said, I did enjoy reading the book, whatever one might classify it as.

My general feelings about weeds are and always have been varied, but for the most part I accept them as part of the world around me.  Weeds are similar to us, to all species, in that they are trying to survive, and I don't believe that's something we can fault them for.  Growing up in the wild, to me a weed is as much a natural part of the scenery as any other, and romanticized as it may seem, I think all plants are beautiful in their own way.  My worst experience with weeds was probably with thistles, because I loved to run barefoot on the lawn every chance I got, and they were everywhere--but there was always a reason to conquer them, making them a challenge, a symbol of something desirable waiting on the other side.

I actually prefer some weeds over typically more welcome plants, whether for aesthetic, practical, or personal reasons.  One of my favorites, the buttercup, is often considered invasive.  I love clover and dandelion leaves, because in my youth they were marvelous treats for my rabbits (and still do quite well for my chinchillas).  As a child, I loved raking my fingers through tangles of chickweed, rolling the seeds off plantain husks, and collecting handfuls of Indian Paintbrush to put in bottles and canning jars.  Dandelions figured quite prominently in my youth, as they were everywhere--and while many people hate them, what kind of child doesn't like getting their fingers yellow, or blowing the white seeds like bubbles to float and pollinate the land with more cheery yellow pom-poms?  In fact, I prefer dandelions to daisies--which are, of course, widely revered--because if you ask me, daisies stink.  If someone gave me a bouquet of daisies, I would probably be offended, whereas if someone gave me a weedy bouquet of dandelions, I'd be endeared to them (also, dandelion chains work just as well as daisy chains).

After reading A Weed By Any Other Name, my perception of weeds has changed only insofar as I know more about them, their uses, their overall value, and their effect on Nancy Gift's life.  I'm glad there's a book available out there to put an informed and positive spin on our often misunderstood or misjudged plants.  Despite the fact that Gift did not change my beliefs of the natural world (we're both, for the most part, live-and-let-live kind of people--eager to learn about, rather than alter, nature), I found this book valuable.  It was interesting to learn the different properties of plants, and the recipes were a nice touch.  Reading about the risks of non-native plants is interesting--I even found an article about Japanese knotweed becoming a problem in Pittsburgh, both economically and ecologically (weeds can definitely be more than just pests).  I also appreciated Gift's use of humor in the book; for example, when she compared wild garlic to "a windblown balding man with a comb-over," and when she compared her chickens to plants in that they were both low-maintenance beings, who don't need but simply "tolerate our love."  These were moments I was able to easily forgive Gift's digressions, as she drew meaningful connections between her personal stories and her knowledge of weeds.  In the end, I think that's the true value of this book, and although I can't necessarily categorize it, I think it accomplished something meaningful.