This dogfennel (Eupatorium capillifolium) sprout is only a few weeks old and it has taken on the form of a miniature white pine (Pinus strobus) as they grow at the edges of pastures in New England when they are given ample time. It came up after the late December rains and if it is not cut down by the landscaping crew it will grow to six or eight feet in height before 2007 is out. By then, its similarity to pine will be long gone. It's parent stock stands in its last stages of decline on the interior of the palm hammock next to where this sprout took hold. Last fall, the forest of full-grown dogfennel waved gently in the wind and its thin leaves gave a soft fluffy green appearance and a soft feel against the skin when one wandered the former access road that used to cut through the campus nature area. In late october, the light green turned more burgundy and over time pollination must have taken place because by December, the soft ends of these not quite auburn leaves released fluffy strands of seed parachutes, carrying the next generation of this annual sprouter to all corners of the palm hammock. Those fall breezes must have carried a seed right to this spot here in a bare patch of sand amongst failing exotic turf and growing vines, beneath a struggling live oak who will one day make us proud. It may have sprouted before the December rains, but not much. The fall presented most of the plant life here with a dearth of rain, a drought, a drying up under persistant and hot sunshine. But this one made it thus far and now awaits the choices of grounds crew and the timing of rain in the months ahead. Dogfennel is considered an invasive weed because it interferes with fine manicured lawns and it invades agricultural plots (it does love disturbed soil) and generally gets in the way of people trying to use the land for the purpose of generating cash. I like it for these very same reasons and for the reason that it is beautiful and persistent and in its adulthood lovely in its many phases. It holds soil in place and towers over the sandy ground, maintaining a ground-level coolness not otherwise available in the hot Florida seasons. It helps more than it hurts in most cases, sheltering cabbage palm (Sabal Palmetto) sprouts and nurturing grasses. We dislike it because we are mistaken.But, then, we are a mistaken culture. Brute force, and a blinding self-confidence, which manifest as a brutal ignorance of others, has come to define the essence of who we are anymore. We wave our flags and cheer as the dictators are savagely needlessly hung, self-assured about the justice of this. And then the numbers become public. We have overseen the deaths of 36,000 Iraqi's during the past bloody year of warfare in Iraq. Another 36,000 maimed and injured to carry with them for their lives, if such are possible in the territory we have ruined these past four years. We fight wars against lovely, soft hearted, delicate plants like the dogfennel and lovely kind hearted people like the Iraqis because our wallets and our bank accounts and all the things we think are measurements of our worth, must be protected and defended and bolstered and grown. We have made murder stand in for virtue, violence for progress, and hate for compassion. Not wealth at all, but that other thing, more wretched, more shameful. Turn your eyes one half turn and you will see. This is not what we want, this is not what we want to be, these are no longer our leaders, this is no longer a viable path for a sustainable future. If this is wealth, I beg for poverty. To steal from Thoreau again, "Give me the poverty that knows true wealth." Enough of this foolishness.
