Goin' Fishing

Gone Fishin'

It was my third year of trying to create the perfect lawn. I was doing quite well this summer. I'd reseeded the bare spots from winter's ravages. I'd found just the right grass seed for our soil conditions. I'd created a sprinkler system that worked well for both the lawn and for entertaining my four children.

All was going well, until one day I noticed several sprouting
dandelions. No problem, I thought. I hurried to the store and bought an herbicide. I figured that by the next weekend, I'd have those yellow devils whipped.

But when I got home, I took a closer look at the instructions. Reading the cautionary statements made me shudder; we live in a rural area with a nearby pond and have cats and dogs and children. I didn't want to inflict toxic chemicals on any of them. So I made the mixture
weaker than the directions called for. Weak and ineffective: By the next weekend, those tough little dandelions didn't have so much as a withered leaf.

I had promised my four-year old daughter Kayla we'd go fishing on Saturday. Kayla loves to fish and is very good at it. But when Saturday arrived, I found the little yellow splotches in my lawn had multiplied.

I'll have to deal with the dandelions before we go fishing, I told myself. The lawn is less than half an acre; how long can it take? With screwdriver and garbage sack in hand, I attacked the pesky weeds.

"Pickin' flowers, Daddy?" Kayla asked.
"Yes, dear," I said, digging furiously at a tough root.
"I'll help," she offered. "I'll give some to Mommy."
"Go ahead, sweetie," I answered. "There's plenty."

An hour passed, and the yellow splotches still remained.

"You said we's going fishin' today," Kayla complained.
"Yes, I know, dear," I said. "Just a little more flower picking, okay?"
"I'll get the fish poles," Kayla announced.

I labored on, prying up one stubborn root after another.

"I found some worms under a rock, Daddy," Kayla piped up. "I put them in a cup. Are you ready?"
"Almost, honey."

More minutes dragged by.

"You picked 'nough flowers, Daddy," Kayla insisted impatiently.
"Okay, honey, just a few more," I promised. But I couldn't stop. The compulsion to finish the job was overwhelming.
A few minutes later, a tap came on my shoulder.
"Make a wish, Daddy!" Kayla chirped.As I turned, Kayla took a big breath, puffed, and sent a thousand baby dandelion seeds into the air.

I picked her up and kissed her, and we headed for the fish pond.

By David Clinton Matz

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