Embrace the Wild Weeds
What happens when we allow our imperfections to be seen by others?
I often feel the need to apologize for our unkempt yard.
To whom? I’m not sure. Maybe a blanket apology to our neighbors and any passerby would do, but in our defense, the invasive weeds moved in well before we did.
We inherited the lawn from the previous owner: a woman who lived independently in this house until her late nineties. An amazing feat, to be sure, but when we heard this, the yard’s questionable state made more sense.
Now, three summers later, much has stayed the same, but I’m beginning to see our lawn in a new light.
What our yard lacks in aesthetics, it makes up for in biodiversity. It’s become an untamed, virtually untouched environment where wildlife thrives.
No other yard in our neighborhood attracts animals, birds, and critters quite like ours.
No other yard provides them with a feast, a place to graze and gather.
No other yard is their home.
This isn’t a coincidence.
The wildness of our lawn, the very thing I want to apologize for, is what draws them near.
It’s home to a momma doe raising her twin fawns, transforming the view outside of our window into a National Geographic show.
It’s home to a flock of mallard ducks who love to waddle in and out of the pond, using the dip of our yard as their personal runway.
It’s home to two foxes, dozens of turkeys, and countless bunnies (much to Bailey’s chagrin)—not to mention all of the pollinators, sparrows, robins, and beloved cardinals who visit us.
It’s a thriving ecosystem, yet I’ve been too caught up in how it looks to recognize its bigger purpose.
Much like the animals of the land, sea, and sky, we’re naturally drawn to wildness.
So why do we demand perfection from ourselves when no one asked for it?
The unscripted video you recorded in your parked car, the caption you typed and published in less than fifteen minutes, the photo you captured in the middle of a hectic day—they become magnetic to the right people.
Don’t let social media or generative AI nonsense fool you.
People can feel what’s real.
When we try to remove any trace of imperfection, treating each one like an invasive weed, we repel our community rather than attracting them.
If there’s something you’ve been tempted to apologize for, let it be seen.
Don’t wait for your story to be polished before it’s shared. Don’t be embarrassed to be seen in progress.
Honor your humanity today instead of hiding it.
That’s what I’m learning to do, too, so if you ever find yourself in Minneapolis, I’ll meet you for tea in my literal backyard—without uttering an apology.
A moment to reflect
What are you calling an invasive weed that could be the key to a deeper connection with those around you?