A Single Word That Changes the Heart

In the overwintering flower bed I had been using as a kitchen garden, a weed called shion (aster) had run rampant.

This weed is quite a nuisance—its life force is strong, and it tears up the soil.

When I mentioned this to a horticulturist I hold in respect, I received this admonition: “Why do you call shion a weed? There is no such thing anywhere as a ‘coarse weed.’ Every one is a plant with a name and a role. At the very least, call it a wildflower.”

Afterward—strange to say—the shion blooming in profusion in the flower bed, which I had thought a nuisance, came to feel somehow beautiful.

That from a feeling of wanting to exterminate this plant I could come, for a while, to think of enjoying the shion instead—this too was thanks to my teacher’s magnificent single word, I gave thanks in my heart as I admired the shion.