Guilt and remorse

I'm positively wallowing in it. And of course, you're dying to know why. You'll have a chance to appear understanding, while on the other side of the computer screen you're really thinking: "What kind of a gardener does she think SHE is?"

Well, a procrastinating, go-with-the-flow kind of gardener, that's what kind. Going with the flow isn't so bad, and I can usually get away with procrastinating somewhat, but I overdid it this time.

You see this?


That is the pile of the remains of my datura. The back-from-the-dead datura that I soft-heartedly allowed to stay in my garden. It filled an entire yard trimmings bag to the brim.

I kept saying I was going to remove it. It was growing too big and healthy, and despite the little fence I put in front of it, smothering my new hydrangea. But my neighbours - it must have been a plot - kept enabling my procrastination. "But it's so lovely," they protested and I foolishly listened.

Today being shirt-sleeve and shorts weather, I finally stopped listening to my own excuses and went and cut the whole thing out. At this point in the season it's hardly flowering anyway. I am not going to show you a picture of the hydrangea and the Oriental poppy that had been trying to survive under its exuberant canopy. They did survive, but they look so woebegone, it's going to take me a long time to live down the shame. *sigh*

The moral of the story is, brazen hussies take advantage of soft hearts. Don't listen to them. And next year, if the darn thing defies the odds and comes up again... Off with its head!

(When they tell you how nice gardeners are, they're lying. The best gardeners are brutal.)

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