My garden looks like this, in my dreams.

Being home until September has given me too much time to think about my garden. It’s been a three year battle reclaiming the front yard from the neglected mess that the last owners left it. Clearly they had some sort of plan, although I have no idea what it was supposed to be because it made no sense whatsoever. It’s taken us this long just to beat back the weeds (side note: FUCKING. BITTERSWEET. I HATE YOU.) enough to make plans and move the salvageable plants into something that resembles order. The front yard is fairly big, a double lot, so I have some single garden beds that are 70 ft. long and 10 ft. wide. That’s after I reduced it down. But I can finally see some progress and a direction now.

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But now that I have a blank-ish slate, I find that I have a flower buying addiction. I cannot go to the flower store or any place with flowers (the grocery store, the home improvement store, my mom’s house where she’s trying to get rid of some things) and walk away without something in hand. There are so many empty spots that need filling and design that needs doing. I hate bare gardens where you can see a lot of mulch and there’s too much space between the flowers. I’d rather it be filled with pretty things than wood chips. It doesn’t help that my neighbors are all retired and have beautiful, magazine-worthy gardens. It’s embarrassing to have the weedy lawn, and yet so expensive to try to make something pretty out of it. Perennials are my friend, but I’m just starting out so about 25% of it inexplicably dies (roses, friggin’ sissies) or comes back feebly the next year. Working on my knowledge, but I’m a ruthless gardener and I don’t like to need to babysit the plants.

Anyway, I don’t even know where this post is going. I can’t stop buying flowers to fill the empty holes where briars used to live, and I want to go back in time and slap whoever the fuck brought bittersweet to North America.