This last week I finally confronted the thick clusters of grass and weeds that have taken root in my newly planted flower beds and borders. I’ve been eyeing them for some time, observing how, shortly after we’d settled the last new plant and I’d dug in over 400 spring-blooming bulbs, tiny bits of green were appearing in the rich, dark soil. I knew that plenty of native seeds had mingled with the good dirt we’d brought in to compensate for the heavy clay of our property, but I had hoped that I’d be able to spread some pre-emergent herbicide on the bare spots to prevent the invasion that was lurking. But Ma Nature was far too quick for me, and I can’t hardly blame her for trying to fill the vacuum, since she also helps all those pretty plants I want to flourish to do so. So, I let a few weeks pass. It was either too hot or too wet, or I had too many more urgent claims on my time (or so I told myself). Although I truly enjoy gardening, I will be the first to admit that dealing with a widespread attack of weeds is not the least bit fun. So I find a few excuses, like, “It’s hard to pull those when they’re so tiny; I’ll yank them when there’s more to grasp,” or “If we get a good frost tonight, it might just kill those weeds.” Yeah, right. I think most weeds have antifreeze in their genetic make-up, and at best the tops die back while the roots dig in with greater vengeance. Finally, though, I couldn’t let them go any longer, and so, with trowel in hand, I got down and (literally) dirty with the unwelcome guests in my garden. There are two satisfying aspects to weeding, I have found. One is that it is one of those chores which, when finished, provides one with clear evidence of the effort expended. Where once the shrubs and perennials were surrounded by thickets of vegetation threatening to strangle them, there follows a smooth expanse of clear, dark soil framing those expensive plantings. The second is that one has plenty of time for introspection and/or plain old wool-gathering, as the process of separating the evil plants from the good ones doesn’t require a very large portion of one’s focus. And so, a few things which popped into my head as I did battle with the weeds: Why is it that it takes such an enormous effort to get grass to grow in those bare spots in the lawn, and yet it grows so easily and lushly without any help from me where I don’t want it? I don’t care what anyone says, some weeds are called that for more than the fact that they’re growing where we don’t want them to; some of them are just plain UGLY! I read somewhere that dandelions are not native to this part of the world, but that they were brought in by settlers for their various useful properties. Like what?!!? Sure, I’ve heard of dandelion greens and dandelion wine, but give me lettuce and grapes and please, take the *!#%* dandelions! After two or three hours of weed-pulling, there is no comfortable position for this body to take. Squatting, kneeling, bending over — it’s all gonna hurt! I recall that just about a year ago, I wrote about putting my garden to bed, for the last time, at our former home in Central Washington. I still miss that place a lot, but I’m so thankful to have this new garden to nurture (weeds and all), especially when, at this time last year, we weren’t sure when our house there would sell. And, as with all my previous gardens, that one taught me a little more so that I could use that knowledge as I create this new one. It’s absolutely amazing to me how a few tiny little leaves or a short blade or two of grass can have such an extensive, branching network of roots below ground. It doesn’t seem to take long at all for those roots to burrow deep and get those unassuming topside bits established. Hmmm, might be a nice metaphor for any of us getting established in a new place. Focus on digging in, getting your support network developed, finding nourishment in your new surroundings (no sense longing for what’s no longer there or where you no longer are). It might take a season or two, but before long you’ve become a part of a new garden — and hopefully not a weed, but a productive species providing a bit of beauty to your corner of the world. — Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader