In a Weedy Patch

This afternoon in the backyard, clearing up a weedy patch along the property line, I was struck by how much of a weed actually grows underground – not just the root, as you would normally expect to be the case, but growing there, intermixed with the dirt, if not quite inextricably bound up with it, I also found a proliferation of the weeds’ green stems and leaves, only just now having been exposed to the light of day – as if the entire plant had been slumbering, already completely formed underground, waiting for the chance to push itself up into daylight. 

In those worlds just out of our view and ken – whether underground or part of our subconscious mind – reality proliferates to a far greater extent than we otherwise imagine possible.  Underground, the unconscious, the womb of time -- take your pick from these metaphors that each describe a similarly fecund but not quite accessible place.