In my little suburban backyard, I do battle every summer with pokeweed, which grows from a network of twisted, football-size roots (I once dug one up that weighed 15 pounds!) to a height of about 12 feet. The pokeweed ALWAYS wins. It's intrepid, and resists all my heroic efforts to destroy it. The plant is toxic to touch, and grows like, well, a weed. Yet, right about this time of year, I develop a soft spot for my enemy. You see, its deep purply-blue berries are a magnet for a host of hungry songbirds, who flock to feed in my pokeweed "garden." While they're feasting, I declare a moratorium on my eradication efforts and just enjoy the show. It's all a matter of perspective...