One Man’s Weed Is Another Man’s Science

When I was a teenager, my father would sooner believe that I was an incompetent lawn mower than even entertain the possibility that I was motivated to preserve what he considered weeds, those suburban symbols of lassitude and irresponsibility. If I'd see a patch of flowering clover or the tiny star-like flowers of stitchwort (Stellaria),I... Continue Reading →

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