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I ordered wildflower seeds early this summer. Along with my rising passion for minimalism I care about biodiversity, native plants and the support of wildlife. My summer plantings centered around several small gardens: a circle of herbs, vegetable rows, a small cottage-style flower garden, the pollinators’ garden, and native wildflowers.

I planted wildflower seeds that I ordered from a native plant nursery.  I had selected a Mid-West mix of classic meadow blooms and it wasn’t long before I could see promising green shoots. Within a few weeks the maturing plants sprouted tightly wrapped heads that soon began to open and reveal their lovely identities. 

The wildflowers have thrived and bloomed consistently all summer. There is one plant, however, that began to dominate in height and number. A little research revealed that I was dealing with Pokeweed, a native that is toxic from root to crown. Birds and wildlife love its berries and can safely eat them but they are hazardous to humans and pets. They do not belong in my small urban garden. Despite the beauty of red stems and deep purple berries, I brought out the shovel.

 I bought a “root shovel" several years ago. The blade is long and narrow with saw-like teeth along its sides. It slides down to dig out deep roots. Despite such a formidable weapon, I had to work hard to release the trunk-like stems from an expansive root system. I was surprised how firmly planted these bullies had become in one short season.

I love how nature teaches, making a lesson visual and meaningful. In this instance, the illumination parallels the experience as I continue to explore minimalism.

I let go of more things each week and judging by number of bags slated for Goodwill, I’ve gone deep into this practice of living with less. I have reached the complicated root system firmly established in my mind and heart. It demands that I identify what is really important to me.

I have hit the level of sentimental symbols, items that represent people and experiences. The memories they guard are precious to me. Will those memories vanish if the goods that embody them are gone?

I think about the wildfires consuming regions of the West. Some areas are familiar to me. Although now changed forever, my experiences there are not gone from memory. They are sealed in who I am as a result of time spent in those places. Who I am and what I remember are not changed by the alteration of something so endearing as a place; certainly letting go of an item will not cause a memory to vanish. 

Some of my things are valuable to me. The quest is to dig deep enough to discern why and to discover a memento’s relevance to my current and future life.

 I need to clear out anything that does not contribute true value to the space in which I live. 

 Space grants peace and ignites creativity.

Letting go allows capacity for new thinking. 

I am prayerfully examining my belongings. I can't always discern between their importance or lack of relevance to the truth of my life. Or to the purpose which God has promised to fulfill in me. I want space to grow in His design but sometimes the "pokeweed effect" has become too prevalent for me to hear that still, small voice saying "This is the way, walk in it". (Isaiah 30:21)

The presence of our possessions can be deafening.