“Oh, look!” Babcia exclaimed, “they’re x’s!” I can’t recall the Polish name she called the little weeds growing in our front yard, and I don’t have a clue what they’re called in English. I call them weeds. She calls them flowers.

They have blossoms, so they’re flowers; they’re unwanted, so they’re weeds.

Which means just about anything could be a weed for someone.