Weeding.

When I was young, relatively speaking, there was a fairly large field at the end of my street. (at this point in the post my mom is saying, "ooooohhh" with a small smile).  Anyways, this field was affectionately referred to as the "corn field".  Hours and hours of play happened in this field.  Between crops, we'd go hit dirt clots with baseball bats.  The explosion of dust and dirt was amazing.  In Spring, flowers and and weeds would come up and cover the entire field.  We'd carve trails through it to get to the park or school.  Our bike adventures through it ended in our chains wrapped with vines.  One time the farmer even chased us with his tractor. 

The crops, mostly corn and squash, were good, I guess.  We didn't have much need for it though, other than the occasional trip to the "store" to grab a squash to put in our dinner.  It was the weeds that looked cool and were fun to hide or ride in.  But the plain dirt field that sometimes would yeild it's treasures of random couches, dirt fights, and the occasional game involving fire (sorry mom), was where most of the fun was.  As the years went by the farmer seemed to disappear and the crops went by the wayside.  The cycle of dirt and weeds followed for a few years.  There was one season in particular that the weeds went rampant. They grew taller than me - not a huge feat at the time - and it was then that they were no longer fun.  They were just menacing.  We couldn't get through the field without coming out the other side looking like a war victim.  Your clothes would tear, bugs and dirt got in your eyes, and the quick trip to Smith's for a sample of Golden Spoon just wasn't worth it anymore.

Weeds. Thicker than your arm, taller than a 10-year-old, infested with spiders; they were terrible.  Yet at the top of each was this little yellow flower bloom.  As you drove by you'd think, "wow that's kinda pretty."  But in truth, they were disgusting.  Completely useless.  No crop yeild, no potential of play, no purpose whatsoever.

So was the little yellow flower on top worth the inconvenience of the weeds?  To the outside observer, yes.  But they only looked on from the outside.  To the 10-year-old, surrounded by them, those weeds were awful.  The spider bites, torn clothes, choked bike chains, and getting lost wasn't worth the pretty yellow flower.

Little and much has changed since then.  Developers dug out the field and built houses.  The field is no longer there.  The weeds never really left though; they've just shifted through the years.  How they manifest is different each season.  And each one is topped with it's own unique mask of a pretty yellow flower.