Further inspirations from the weedbed.

A man for whom I otherwise have a great deal of respect once informed me that the meaning of life was to leave the world a better place for your children. I grant that this is a very noble aspiration and I wish him luck. But really, what sort of impossible task is that? Children are infamous for never doing what their parents want them to do in the first place, let alone appreciating love's labour's lost once the elder generation has laid down the torch. How many proverbs rise to mind of squandered inheritances, estranged children, wasted educations?

If the purpose of life is indeed something to do with our offspring, I think that the only efforts we can honestly put forward are to prepare our children as best we can for what comes ahead. We can arm them with the tools we think they may need, but only they have the power to shape their own circumstances. We may indeed leave the world a better place for them, but it's up to them what they do with it, and if the precedent of the human race is anything to judge by, there will be plenty of fiascoes before things even begin to teeter back onto a reasonably even keel. It's foolish to think that by our actions we can prevent the foolishness of others, because the human mind is a wonderfully creative and monumentally stupid organ. We'll all muddle through somehow.

The plants figured this out ages ago. All they do is work into the soil and break it up, then flower, fruit, and die, leaving behind a nutritive and fertile area where their successors may or may not choose to take root. If that's your idea on the meaning of life, then I say look no further than what's at your feet.

On the potato beetle:

The Colorado potato beetle, Leptinotarsa decemlineata, a black-and-white striped member of the leaf beetle family, especially destructive to the potato plant et familia. As its name suggests, it was once native only to the Midwest, where it is to be supposed they grew a lot of potatoes, having little else to do whilst waiting for the corn. When the Irish potato famine created demand for potatoes all across the country and into Europe, these invertebrate stowaways spread across the world and now plague innocent gardeners of all sorts. It is a curious phenomenon to observe the relationship between potato plant and potato beetle. A potato plant is one of the most contradicting symbols in the gardening sphere. Sprouting anywhere in a tilled area, it says: Verily, there will come Fruition, yea, and slightly fuzzy dark green plants with bunched leaves in odd places upon the stems in keeping with the Fertile Character of the Garden. Promise of Future Nourishment will be manifest. And the Colorado potato beetle will also be manifest, which is where the rot sets in. The potato beetle is ubiquitous, omnipresent. No matter how clean the seed potato, how completely scoured of pests and weeds your garden is, and how many centuries it's been since a potato plant was last in your garden, the moment the current plant hits three inches you will find a potato beetle upon it. Perhaps a cluster of orange eggs, if you're very lucky. Their sole purpose in life is to thwart the growth of your potato plants. They see growth, they thwart. It's natural. I just wish I knew where the hell they appear from.