I Do Not Know

     I do not know what this white flower is called, do you know?  It grows up and down the sides of the drive way and some are also in the garden. 






      I’m sure the bees are benefited by them and they bloom all summer long.  Sometimes we add them to the flower bouquet and they make me think of baby’s breath, though they are a bit bigger.  So, it is obvious that they are a weed, for we did not plant them and they come up all over every year for us to pull out.  We can still make use of them with their beaming little white head clumps.









  "That insects are made in vain we cannot for a moment believe. The evils they inflict upon us have their compensation. Most birds feed upon insects. Should we be willing to give up these, if withdrawing insects were the price? They also serve as food to the larger animals, and even for man himself in some countries. They undoubtedly assist to maintain a due balance between vegetable and animal productions, and are also scavengers, removing nuisances and deformities that become exceedingly offensive to the senses. They serve us in the fertilization of plants, fructifying them with the pollen which they carry along from flower to flower. They afford us medicines, some of which are of such essential service as to be thought indispensable in the practice of the physician. Dyes of exquisite color, are obtained from them, and could scarcely be spared in the arts. So they yield us wax, honey and silk--silks that are in the civilized world--silks in which kings and queens are clad, and which may be found in some form in the humblest hamlet in the land.  

Let these compensations--and no doubt there are many more--comfort us in our moments of vexation, added to the thought that this is their world as well as ours; that God has created and placed them in it, and caused plants to grow for man and beast, and that we are, all alike, dependent upon his bounty for our daily bread.  

But, let us be watchful that they do not get too large a share. In this patient watchfulness we may find, perhaps, another compensation of which we have as yet little thought. Stern virtues do not spring up from beds of down and paths of ease, but amid the sharp and rugged ways of life, in trials and disappointments, even after all our powers have been exerted to avoid them. Is it impossible that these tiny destructives are exercising us in lessons of patience, forbearance and love, and leading us more directly to him who is the Author of all! Who knows?"

New England Farmer. 

October 10, 1865 

UrSe, ARSH 147