A Blessed Weed, Indeed

A Blessed Weed, Indeed

Every now and then, life smacks us upside the head with what feels like a crushing setback. Then, with enough time and awareness, we realize that setback was a blessing in disguise. A sheep in wolf’s clothing. A mini-miracle, like magic right under our nose.

In the middle of COVID-19 lockdowns, Tony and I had retired. We jettisoned half our wordly goods, sold the house, and rented an apartment in San Diego. Walking the beach without a mask was a guilty pleasure. And we loved getting reacquainted with family members and friends we hadn’t seen in decades.

It was a peaceful, carefree kind of life, with lovely neighbors, ocean views, and plenty to keep us as busy as we wanted to be. Almost three years passed in a flash.

But one day, we surprised ourselves and each other by admitting we missed having our own home. Even more, we missed New Mexico, Land of Enchantment. Where Tony’s ancestors first arrived in the 1500s, some of the first settlers in Santa Fe. Where he planted apricot and cherry trees. Where my roses grew so grand, neighbors walked past just to admire their giant, fragrant blossoms. Where people put smoky, spicy, locally grown chili on damn near everything.

Where the sky . . . have you seen the sky in New Mexico? Like a cascade of Maxfield Parrish illustrations, taking your breath away with every glance.

I was writing a creative nonfiction about those ancestors and I kept running across names that rung with high desert, older-than-old-West romance. The Gila National Wilderness and Cliff Dwellings. The Buckhorn Saloon and Opera House. Billy the Kid. The Catwalk. And Silver City.

I’d heard the name Silver City lots of times, and it always intrigued me. We began watching Youtube videos about it.

It was a short step from there to browsing real estate listings, casually curious. When we called a listing agent, she told us that all the places we liked were under contract. She said, “If you’re serious about being here, you need to come here.”

Why not? We left before dawn the next morning and drove the ten hours to Silver City, arriving in time to view a place we’d seen the day before online. We explored the house, and walked the 1-acre property. The next morning, we bought it. We drove back to San Diego and began packing.

We’ve been here just over a year now and our heads are still spinning at how quickly and profoundly our lives have transformed. Most of our property is high desert with mature trees, purple and red sage, and spiny cacti, and a host of winged and furry wild things who visit us every day. But the fenced in “back yard” has large patches of uncultivated dirt with every kind of weed you can imagine.

Tony wasted no time in attempting to grow food plants. He sprouted (from seed) a host of yummies: tomatoes, cucumbers, basil, bell and jalapeno peppers, green beans, and cilantro. Kept them under a growlight and ensured they had water and nourishment every day.

When they were tall and seemed hardy, he transplanted them into raised beds to conserve water. We both looked forward to homegrown vegetables.

But winter became blazing summer almost overnight this year, too hot for baby plants. Most of them died. So he put up a greenhouse for next year and meanwhile set about conquering the rampant weeds in earnest.

One sizzling afternoon as I worked on a scene for my latest novel, he appeared at the door with his T-shirt sweat-drenched. “There’s something I don’t recognize growing like crazy out here. When I pull it, more grows. I can’t get ahead of it.”

Distracted, I murmured, “Um, do you want me to take a look?” I half hoped he would let it ride. But he chugged water from his thermos and nodded.

Where before I’d only seen dirt with all manner of weeds, there were large, bright green clumps of red stems with plump-looking leaves and tiny yellow flowers. They had appeared unannounced, surprise visitors who were happily sprawling. I bent down, snapped a photo and cued up the Plant ID App.

“According to this, it’s called ‘purslane.’”

“Pussy-what?” He grinned.

I rolled my eyes. “Stop! P-u-r-s-l-a-n-e. Purslane.”

“Great. How do we kill it?”

“I don’t know. Lemme Google it. Huh. Says here it’s edible.”

“Which part?”

“The whole plant. From roots to flowerheads. The Spanish colonials brought it over centuries ago. Actually, people around the world eat it. They use it as an herb or a vegetable, kinda like spinach. In salads, soups, stuff like that.”

I bent down to pluck a sprig and tasted it. “Pretty good. Lemony-green,sort of.” I looked over to his raised beds where very little still grew. “Which of your plants are actually yielding something we can eat?”

He looked embarrassed. “Wellll . . . the birds got the cherry tomatoes. The basil was going strong until some kind of bug stripped it, and there are a few jalapenos. Everything else died. Too hot, too soon. I couldn’t save them.”

“So you’ve been working since last spring, trying to coax these vegetables to life under harsh, drought conditions. And this plant volunteers right outside our back door, thriving with no help from us whatsoever. No sprouting, digging, planting, feeding, spraying, or even watering. It’s well-mannered, stays only a few inches high. Rabbits and bugs and birds apparently don’t eat it. But we can. And based on what I’m reading, we should. It’s pretty nutritious! Good thing you didn’t spray any weedkiller.”

I reached down and ate a little more. “Let’s harvest it.“

So now we have purslane in our salads, soups, and even with scrambled eggs. It’s tasty, healthy, and filling. I’ve preserved bags of it in the freezer. I pureed it with a little basil to make a lemony pesto. Like spinach, you shouldn’t overdose on it if you’re prone to kidney stones. But we eat a varied diet in moderation.

The other day I visited a friend who clucked about “that weed” in her back yard. I smiled and helped her pick a baggie full for that night’s salad.

Good thing we weren’t able to eradicate “that weed.” It’s a mini miracle, a little bit of magic right under our nose. A blessed weed, indeed. Next spring, I’m picking young dandelion leaves. And maybe some mallow, clover, lambsquarters, and . . .

If you’re curious, here is a review article describing the nutritious and medicinal aspects of purslane: “Purslane Weed (Portulaca oleracea): A Prospective Plant Source of Nutrition, Omega-3 Fatty Acid, and Antioxidant Attributes,” from Scientific World Journal, Feb. 10, 2014. Retrieved on 09-05-24 from: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3934766/