Yesterday I spent two and a half hours participating in a group effort to remove buckthorn (an invasive plant that spreads like wildfire and outcompetes native vegetation) from my college campus, as part of an event called “Community Day”. I quickly found out that I was virtually useless when it came to uprooting the things (I seem to have little in the way of upper-body strength

), so I spent most of that time carrying (or, as was more often the case, dragging) plants other people had cut down or uprooted to the main brush pile, and, later on, as other people started to leave, pulling up the smaller saplings and seedlings. Even then, I managed to struggle considerably with the task, and meet my obligatory quota of at least one minorly self-injurious slapstick blunder.

While I suspect my greatest contribution to the endeavor was boosting the morale of the other participants by making them feel like they were doing a good job by comparison,

: I’m rather proud of the fact that I was one of the last people to stop working. (Though even now, twenty-five-and-a-half hours later, my arms are still aching.

)