Kneeling on my front lawn with my weeding fork in hand, I jabbed away at a big dandelion plant that sprang up overnight along with several companions scattered across the green grass. Annoyed with their sudden appearance and ominous yellow flowers, I grabbed my fork and went after them.

This one wasn’t budging. I dug harder, trying to get to the bottom of the root because I didn’t want to break it off and dig at it again later. Mumbling angrily, I began to think about all the things that annoy me. The face of an unkind man in my past came to mind. I named the dandelion his name, and my efforts suddenly became more intense, more earnest. I was digging away not at the dandelion, but at him. Very soon I held the entire dandelion root in my hand. It was exhilarating.

I named all the dandelions as I dug at them, one by one. And I pulled all their roots out, one by one. I sat back and pondered what just happened. I had invented weeding therapy — and it’s changed everything. Now I don’t weed out roots — I weed out problems.

Different types of weeds offer different types of therapy. Dandelions, with their one long root, are a one-person therapy. Name the plant and get to the root.

Morning glory (binder weed) is issue rooted. As you unwind a sagging healthy plant from the weed’s insidious tendrils, think about how entangled your problem is and then symbolically unravel it, freeing the burdened plant from the invasion, finishing with the triumphant digging out of a long, spreading root. The knowledge that you can never actually dig up an entire morning glory root and that it will be back only adds to the validity of dealing with repetitive issues with vigilance and ongoing care.

Ground cover weeds like purslane, which can be so overwhelming when first encountered, are easily removed with a hoe when they show up like a short, purple carpet on the ground — but soon demand hand pulling if not immediately removed. They symbolize the need to address problems as soon as they pop up.

Weeds represent most every life challenge we encounter. Chickweed is a bothersome relative, spurge is an impossible project assignment, thistles are annoying co-workers, dyer’s woad is a problematic boss. Pulling them out is life changing.

Weeding therapy is available the moment it’s needed — no waiting for an appointment. It requires nothing but a weeding fork and some weeds — which are abundantly everywhere. Once your sessions clear everything on your own property, borrow a neighbor’s weeds. She’ll likely be willing and grateful (and mystified) to let you clear her weeds. She doesn’t need to know the reason you’re out in her garden stabbing away at her weeds is because you’re working through some childhood issues.

I told my daughter, “I’ve invented a new therapy. It’s called weeding therapy.” She stared at me for a long moment before replying, “Mom, you realize not everyone likes to pull weeds.”

Well, I didn’t say it would be easy or pleasant. But most things worth having, including peace of mind, take some effort. Given the state of the world, it’s possible that eventually the entire earth could be cleared of weeds if everyone adopted weeding therapy. (Just looking for the bright side here.)

The only drawback to weeding therapy is there are no weeds in winter.

I’m pondering snow shovel therapy.

D. Louise Brown lives in Layton. She writes a biweekly column for the Standard-Examiner.