Here’s a story for you.

Yesterday, walking the dog, we explored a grassy laneway between two houses, and we came across the most beautiful scotch thistles.

Weeds. Truly pretty weeds.

My husband waited while I found a way to break off the thistles, then he made an invention with dog bags so I could carry the weeds home. It worked perfectly: a dog bag ‘strap’ to carry prickly thistles for over a kilometre back to the house.

That’s him. That’s me.

Ingenious helper. Gatherer of beautiful weeds.

My son has a Thoreau quote by his desk, and it says this:

So many people read that Thoreau quote and assume they haven’t done their thing.

I think we can’t stop ourselves from doing it.

Our song leaks out. It’s who we are.

Not many people would see weeds in a laneway. Not many people would find them pretty. Almost no one would get up early on a Sunday morning to write about them, and send the message around the world.

Oh, there are so many things I don’t see at all: science (blahhhhh!), or babies (ugh). Swimming…nope! Not my song. Maybe it’s yours.

I’m not saying I’m so special. Please don’t get me wrong.

But there’s this: somehow, seeing the ‘pretty’ makes me ME.

Vic, a beautiful friend with a wise heart, told me this amazing story a few days ago about her unexpected chance to speak at an open mic in a cafe. She’s talented but she got too mixed up about perfection and she let the chance pass her by.

Then she felt terrible. And she wrote this: I knew I should have done it.

Today, please go and sing your kind of song.

Inventor of solutions or finder of beauty? A person who always helps a child? A heart that wants to problem-solve? Baker or walker? Kitchen dancer? Let it out. Appreciate it: the quirky, beautiful person your mama raised you to be.

Enjoy your weekend…and enjoy being you.

You are irreplaceable.

Love Catherine x

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