Sometimes, life hands you a confusion. It demands and insists, takes up most of your energy, pulls you away from other and important tasks. You look up and your half a dozen years older, other messes have crept in, and your garden is a desolation of weeds. And you realize that the crisis is, if not past, different, and it’s time to move ahead.

For a while, we employed “landscapers” who at least kept things sort of under control. I had always preferred to cut my own grass, and encouraged clover and such. I planted a lot of roses. The hired help did ok, until last year when some inconsidered pruning laid low an important but very Japanese maple, a rather well established dogwood “Golden Showers,” and did horrible and disfiguring things to a 25 year old rose, “Constance Spry.” I couldn’t keep them, and we decided to go back to cultivating our own garden.

The it’s a clement microclimate here, especially for weeds. This year’s efforts are going to be almost exclusively restoration: weeding, clearing, pruning, fertilizing, mulching. And planning. And saving to execute the plan. At the moment I’m filling a 30 gallon lawn recycling bag every day. It takes about half an hour. I think I’ll report (with photos) on progress every Monday.

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