|Not a weed (in my opinon).|
This is a little sage plant that I found in the pasture after Big Ag had gone down to fix yet another drip system failure in our orchard. Right now these little plants are in season and blooming everywhere around here. I'd say we have over a hundred, at least, all over our place, and the hills all around town are covered in them as well.
Look at the pretty purple flowers. If I were describing this plant the way I'd describe wine, I'd say it has a strong sage bouquet, but also with a lot of mint and lavender notes. It actually has an extremely strong scent, but only if you brush up against it.
So back to the conversation in the pasture. It went something like this:
"Why did you pull this up?" I demanded.
"Because it's a weed," he answered.
See? One man's weed is his wife's aromatic, lovely flower. We play this game a lot around here. If it smells or looks nice I generally will keep something around, even if it's considered a weed. But Big Ag hates all things aromatic, unless they are artificial, chemically-created scents that are put into things like Bounce fabric sheets, Gain laundry detergent and smelly soaps. Then he absolutely loooooves it. And so, I've accepted that I'm married to a guy who will pull sage out of the ground because it's smelly while at the same time reeking of Irish Spring himself. Human beings are such conundrums.
I told him in no uncertain terms to leave MY smelly hillside favorites alone, and he reluctantly agreed. Marriage is built on compromise, after all. I get smelly plants in the pasture, and once in awhile throw my husband a bone in the form of a fabric sheet tossed in the dryer when I do his shirts.
But if he pulls out any more of my lovely, smelly sage, guess what I'm going to put into the dryer instead? Maybe Mr. FancySmellyPants needs to go to work smelling like real, natural sage, lavender and mint. Maybe he needs little tufts of plant matter and flowers poking out of his shirt pockets.
It could happen.