Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, June 25, 1925

I cut the weeds in the front yard tonight. Regret came with the first blow of the sickle. With one swoop I had cut down three sturdy plants— ragweed, thistle, & yellow dock. Back of it all was the custom of people to have neat flat lawns— our front yard was a “disgrace” and accordingly I was out with my sickle. While still hacking away mechanically, I wondered why Man has arbitrarily divided the members of the vegetable kingdom into two classes— flowers (including “ornamental” plants) — and “weeds.” Why, if some of these weeds were found growing in fancy flower shops, they would bring a big price thru their sheer beauty. The ragweed for example— few plants are more graceful; and even the leaves of the locust are scarcely more airy & dainty. My resentment grew as I went along— here I was ruthlessly cutting down some of my favorite plants, plants that I associate with my boyhood— healthy homely plants, outlaws of the vegetable world, corresponding to the Huck Finns of humanity….

But if ever a sickle should be used, tonight was the time, with the first sliver of the moon hanging in a rainy sky. It had rained from time to time all day— and the air was still filled with that silence and calmness that follows a heavy downpour.

Before I started the slaughter, two plants had been marked for clemency—two fancy looking cabbage plants, apparently of spontaneous growth, that were flourishing healthily. It suddenly occurred to me to extend the exemption to various other plants and let them stand as symbols to the critical world— When I was thru there were left a pennywort, a ragweed, a thistle and a huge luxuriant burdock. Like me they are despised weeds— outlaws in the cultural worlds. I decided I would cultivate them as some people do rare plants.
—Charles E. Burchfield, June 25, 1925