I am a murderer. Kind of.

This spring after the big weed killing adventure, I realized what I actually liked about pulling weeds, provided the soil has some give, that is.

There is a satisfaction that comes from ripping something from the ground.  Looking at the way the roots cling to the dirt.  Realizing how long they are and the way they spread to burrow deeper into the ground to give yet more strength to the plant above ground.

Besides, they make a satisfying sound when ripped unceremoniously from a section where they do not belong.

Then I remember I was a child of the 60s/70s.  I remember the talk about why it is important to be vegetarian (I'm not).  Then there was the talk about how every living thing has a soul, even the plants.

Therefore, if I remove plants from my yard, I am killing a living thing.  If I enjoy doing it, I am a murderer.

So I am a murderer.  Kind of.