Ecclesiastes 1:2
My fingers threaded through stems to pluck at the maple and poplar seedlings that had found comfort in my mulch, and it occurred to me as I weeded that the great eastern forest was trying to reclaim itself and I was thwarting its every sprout. There was no reason beyond vanity to pull the seedlings; my sin was compounded by the eventual neglect this plot would face when I moved on. I, in fact, was only delaying the return of the trees. Their insistent clawing toward the light is a reminder of my own mortality, and as I dragged them from the earth, I was quietly reminded that-all too soon-I would be nourishment for their eventual success.