Every time I set out seedlings, I feel sorry for the weak ones. I long to be a Darwinian-minded spirit who has no trouble with "survival of the fittest," quickly tossing aside the stragglers, the weak-necked, the limp. But instead, I find a spot in the corner for them. I tuck them in and wish them well.
Whether right or wrong, I've always had this sensitivity. Sometimes I hope it's a sign of compassion for the weak. Other times, it feels like indecisiveness, a wishy-washy inability to make "hard" decisions.
I have this same problem with the semi-invasive plants. Why pull the mint so ruthlessly? They make great tabolui, tea, and salads--who doesn't love mint? But mint is a bully my mind argues back. And why remove every last clump of the sedum--nothing else grows so well in the crooks of rocks. So, I let a few stay...
I wouldn't have made the cut with Joshua conquering the Promised Land---there would have been far too many stragglers.
I am a first-world wanna be farmer at best---feeling sad for weak seedlings and such. When your dinner table depends primarily upon the output of your garden, I think the seedlings fall easily to the wayside. I've worked the land next to a local farmer, and she has no such issues. It's just routine.
You can tell that 48 weeks out of the year, I buy my tomatoes at the store.
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