In my spare time (ha!) I like to garden. Flowers, vegetables, herbs, fruit, you name it; I’m game.
I’m also a lazy gardener. Which means weeds are included on that list. You see, I truly don’t have a lot of spare time (who does?), and gardening usually spurs plot ideas, so I tend to do only as little as I can get away with.
This means while I grow tasty vegetables and spectacularly bright flowers, I also cultivate clover, wild violets, crab grass, and the ever-present dandelion. Not on purpose, mind you. It’s simply that I have exhausted my desire to combat them, and I have learned that living with them is far easier—and not really as terribly unattractive as one might think—than battling them day after day, month after month, year after year.
While the perennial flowerbed along my front porch is a lovely display of three season beauty (and
sometimes four, if I don’t cut down the sedum heads in the fall), the cracks in my driveway cultivate their own bed of, er, weeds. I’ve tried everything, including poison (which I hated because I prefer to be an organic gardener), and the end result was… I had to do it all over again weeks later. Anything that can withstand the stress of growing in cracked cement can apparently withstand blowtorches, ammonia, and Weed ’n’ Feed. Mark my words, after the zombie apocalypse all that will be left are cockroaches and the weeds from my driveway.
There are a few enemies I continue to battle, year after year. Only a precious few. Like Snow on the Mountain. Yes, I recognize this is not actually a weed, but in my mind, it is the bane of my existence. My flowerbeds have been largely cultivated via cuttings from other people’s gardens. And years ago, along with one such cutting, I accidentally procured a tiny bit of Snow on the Mountain. Which in no time flat turned into a whole lot of Snow on the Mountain. I could clearly see where it got its name from, as my entire bed soon resembled, well, a snowcapped mountain.
The first year, I didn’t do anything about it. It wasn’t exactly ugly. And it filled in the bare spots where I hadn’t yet figured out what would fit between my peonies and the lilies. But by the second year, I noticed plants I’d had for many, many seasons were no longer there. That’s because Snow on the Mountain is an aggressive asshole, and it chokes out weaker plants. People complain about Purple Loosestrife and Zebra Mussels; I say Snow on the Mountain is a much bigger threat.
At least to my flowerbeds.
Unfortunately, once it takes hold, Snow on the Mountain doesn’t let go. It’s one of those plants that spreads via underground rhizomes, and unless I want to dig up the plethora of bulbs in my flowerbed (I don’t), the battle will continue to rage on. I will pull those snowcaps enough to allow the flowers I truly love some breathing space, and I will feel vindicated, er, satisfied. At least temporarily. And then I will do it all again the next time I stop to admire the flowers.
Which is probably why I’ve given up battling the clover and wild violets. I mean, let’s be honest; they aren’t particularly ugly. And they, unlike Snow on the Mountain, are considerate weeds. They grow where other plants don’t. They fill in the empty spaces. Those wild violets have somehow formed a border around my flowerbed in the backyard. I rarely have to pull out encroaching grass anymore. It’s great.
And it allows me to get back to my writing all that much more quickly. I have a new plot idea, too. It’s about a perennial that didn’t quite know it’s place in the garden, and had to be eradicated.
Okay, not really. It’s actually the third book in my Twisted Fate series. If you’re into shapeshifters, you’d probably like this series. It’s about two different species and their fight for control over the world. Okay, yeah, that’s all in the background. It’s actually about finding true love despite all that strife. The first book is available now. Book two is coming soon… very, very soon.
And book three, well, as soon as I’m done weeding this flowerbed, I’ll get to work on it.