. . . is that eventually you have to clean up the spaces that have become infiltrated with weeds and grass. My time had come. Henry and I bought a small wheelbarrow to help us move all of the dirt, soil, and mulch.
I have spent most of my free time during the last few weeks gardening. This includes about six hours of each day during Memorial Day weekend. I am sore and utterly exhausted, but exhilarated by the amount of work Greg and I were able to get done.
First of all, we turned this:
Then, we tore out all of the things we didn't like on either side of the driveway, and now it looks like this:
Last spring, I was getting ready to have Henry, and I did only minimal gardening. Then, once summer arrived, I'm afraid I did very little outside other than lounge around the backyard watching Nick play and snuggling with the baby. I never did get caught up in the fall, and we ended up just letting everything pile up. That made for double the work this year.
Gardening, however, is good exercise, and it is satisfying in a way that few things are, at least to me. I love battling the elements, be they weeds,drought, poor soil, or those nasty earwigs, and conquering them enough to get plants to grow.
I do love that feeling of "I did that!" that I get when I'm gardening. Then there's the issue of preventing Henry from eating wood chips. But that, I'm afraid, is another issue entirely. I am winning that battle, too, though. At least thus far.