Weeds

Working in my garden has become an event I have to think carefully about. I can easily become so engrossed in clearing out weeds and making everything look its best that I ignore the pain in my neck and aching back. I lift heavy sacks of potting soil, vigorously pull out stubborn grasses, and haul wheelbarrow loads of rocks until I can barely stand up straight. Dripping with sweat and sometimes crawling with ants, I stagger indoors for a cold drink and a tasty snack. In my eagerness to control what should grow where, I ignore my own body's warning signs and forget to look at the greater plan.

Because of illness over the last several years, my gardening efforts came pretty much to a standstill. Now that I'm feeling better, I'm back out in the yard and finding that I do better if I limit the time and effort I put into the work. I go out early in the morning or an hour before dusk when it's cooler. I actually prefer the dusk time to work because, as dark approaches and I can't see well, I am forced to go back inside. If I work in the morning, I can find myself ignoring the aches, ants, and increasingly hot sun to dig out just one more weed.

I've been working on a bed at the back of my house where I had planted tomatoes, basil, and artichokes in the Spring. The bed was overrun with volunteer white alyssum, several types of grasses, dandelions, and some nasty spreading plants that had relatives throughout the bed. Volunteer tomato plants had sprung up from last year's crop. I had let everything grow because I liked the white alyssum and enjoyed the surprise of finding hidden sweet cherry and low-acid yellow tomatoes. Eventually, the basil bolted, the artichokes got choked out, and it was pretty hard to find the volunteer tomatoes among the mass of vegetation. When a neighbor asked permission to look in the bed for basil and couldn't find any, I knew it was time to take action.

Last weekend I worked three mornings and made significant progress in clearing out the bed. I discovered partners in crime:  volunteer marigolds growing alongside a volunteer cherry tomato plant. I was amazed by a large orange-colored grasshopper. I learned that ants really like to build their nests and tunnels under alyssum.  I soaked the ground so I could dislodge the tall stubborn grasses, and I drove my metal digger beside the center of spreading plants with seemingly endless roots. After finishing work on Sunday morning, I proudly drove my spading fork into the ground, pleased that I was able to walk away after only one hour without breaking a sweat.

Last night I couldn't wait to get out into the garden and continue weeding. I turned on the drippers and went inside to change my clothes. I took my time feeding the dog, opening the mail, and checking my voice mail messages. I knew I had a full two hours left before dark. I decided not to eat dinner before going out, so I would have a reason not to work too long. When I pulled up my spading fork, I heard the sound of gushing water. I had pierced the plastic pipe that fed the dripper lines in the bed last week when I planted the spading fork! Oh, well. I turned off the water and went to weeding. It was incredibly easy because all the plants were well soaked. The orangey grasshopper greeted me, and I wondered where he would go after I took his weeds away. I was careful to avoid the ants. I piled the weeds up and left them on the brick walkway overnight.

This morning was beautiful with a few wispy clouds in the blue sky and a slight breeze tousling the tree leaves. The soil was still damp and removing most of the weeds was as easy as moving my computer mouse. I could not avoid the ants.  But I saved their most infested section for last. I found that if I kept moving instead of kneeling in one place on my foam pad, I could avoid most of them. It meant that I had to bend over more, but at least I didn't have ants racing up my arms and inside my pants legs. I didn't see Mr. Grasshopper, but two of his normally colored friends (females?) were hiding in a clump of allysum I had left next to the house. I decided to load up the wheelbarrow with the weeds before clearing out the last two sections. As I lifted bunches of the rejects into the wheelbarrow, a whole host of critters jumped to the brick walk.  Several types of beetles, spiders, snails, and other insects were suddenly looking for a new home.

I dumped the weeds in the yard waste can and thought about how the soil where the weeds had been was loose and rich, unlike the hard clay in which I had planted the vegetables. The weeds had provided good cover for the insects that brought the little songbirds hunting and scratching to my yard. I went back and looked at the remaining patches of allysum. I decided I would leave them to hide those bugs that would now be looking for a new place to stay. I also thought it could do no harm to let the white allysum and their weedy friends have a place to grow next to my vegetables. Just so long as they don't hide the basil and smother the artichokes!