Autumn catapults us into crazy, busy schedules, and this was our excuse for not cleaning up our garden last year. And then I was in the throws of morning sickness, which made me happy to see the white cold frosting all our herbs, which scents made me want to wilt and sicken.
We're just now catching up; our garden was rather daunting at first, but Martin's been off for a few days now and we're making progress.
But we've got a lot to do. Martin's been weeding for days on end, and the once messy beds are shaping up. Finally, from our sunroom windows, we see a pattern of symmetrical paths forming; we've got the fabric and the mulch to make our paths a reality. The compost is well rotted, and the perennials are back (I lost two roses to the winter).
Truly, I'd hesitate to show you the following if I weren't sure of forthcoming amazing "AFTER" pictures that will hopefully knock your wellingtons clean off.
But we've got a rather long, tantalizing list of unfulfilled goals.
And here's the reason why:
A fairly compelling reason to let a few weeds grow, all in all.
Beatrix slept happily in her stroller by the compost and strawberries while Merry hauled bricks and I mowed the grass. She's a naturalist baby for sure, true to her namesake.
