When we first moved here, the property was more wild than livable. Trees pressed in on the house and garage, threatening the roofs, which were each already alive with a thick layer of moss and lichen. The central rock garden wasn’t a garden at all, just an overgrown berm leftover from when the original owner dug the hole for the septic tank forty years earlier. Carpenter ants and mice had long since moved into the rotting decking and siding. And in spite of all this, we moved in.
So you can imagine how the thought of taming the rock garden or establishing landscaping around the property was the furthest thing from our minds. In fact, I preferred the wild, woodsy look and didn’t want to change a thing about it. But, as everyone warned us, homeownership has a way of changing your plans.
Removing the Threats
The first priority was removing the many trees that threatened to crash into the structures and our cars. Once they were gone, we were left with nothing but mud; mud we’d have to deal with eventually. With winter around the corner, that problem got pushed to the following year.
The next year rolled around and we realized the aging septic system would have to be replaced sooner than later. If we were going to go through the effort of planting grass where there was mud, we figured we might as well replace the septic first. So we did.
That project unearthed tons of boulders and even more dirt. We placed the rocks around the property in strategic spots for function or looks, and then we planted grass and other plantings. And we watered grass and other plantings. And watered some more. Life became an endless cycle of moving the single hose with the sprinkler attachment and setting a ten minute timer.
By fall, it was evident the new septic tank wasn’t working. It had to be replaced. And you know what happens to grass in the path of excavating a new septic tank? It turns to more mud. So we replaced the grass a second time.
We did what had to be done. We raked, seeded, and watered until the mud pit turned back into grass. We added garden beds, tucked in hand-me-down plants from friends and family, and tried to make order out of chaos.
When the Weeds Moved In
And just as the property started to take shape, the weeds arrived. They threaded through every gap, sometimes taller than what we planted, sometimes faster than we could pull. I hoped that, in time, the plants would grow close and strong enough to crowd the weeds out. That’s been partly true, but it’s also a waiting game.
The following year, my husband had surgery and I hurt my back, and we let the weeds take over. The year after that, we tried cardboard and mulch. It worked… for a while. This year, we did an early spring cleanup and brought in compost from a local farm. And to our dismay, the compost sprouted its own “lawn” of grassy weeds right where we had placed it to feed the existing plants. And between work, travel, and renovation, we couldn’t keep up.
Choosing Where to Spend My Energy
Now, every time I walk through the garden, I have to choose: fight or surrender. Part of me aches to pull and prune, but another part knows my energy belongs elsewhere right now. We’ve been chipping tile, hauling rubble, and making space for radiant floors. It’s a race against time before the cold sets in and the threat of freezing pipes is upon us. My body is still recovering from years of back pain, and my job is not to overdo it.
Then again, Dr. Sarno’s words echo in my head: our backs are strong, and the more we let fear of “overdoing it” stop us, the more pain we invite in. So I practice his mindset daily, noticing when fear creeps in and stopping it in its tracks.
Maybe I’ll do a little weeding now that the weather has cooled. Or maybe I’ll let the weeds win. The garden will still be here next year.
Bramble On 🌿
Bea
Thanks for reading!