If I didn't love plants so much...

If I didn't love plants so much, I'd let the lemon balm take possession of the garden and pull some of it each spring and fall just to enjoy its fragrance.

If I could stay away from the online plant and seed seller sites, I wouldn't have to guess what the deer would develop an appetite for next.

If only I didn't love the scent and waxy blossoms of lilies, the money I spend on stakes could go toward a more comfortable retirement.

If color through the season weren't important to me, I wouldn't be buying Dial or Irish Spring to cut up and hang from posts throughout the yard in an attempt to deter deer.

If I hated variety, I'd have left the thousand or so Hostas (all one cultivar) where they were (everywhere) and saved the three weeks of physical therapy I went through after digging them up.

If I didn't love Peonies, Poppies, Echinacea, Hydrangeas, Zinnias, Asters and conifers I'd have more lawn.

And if I had more lawn, I'd be mowing instead of weeding, digging, planting, staking and deadheading.

But if I were mowing, I wouldn't hear the chirping and buzzing or smell the surprising wisps of scent a garden with lots of different plants provides.


Every year around this time I have to talk myself down from a Roundup frenzy. It's my own fault. I've managed to wrestle a season's worth of neglect into three hours of guilt, back pain and a carpal tunnel flare-up.

Stand by. I'm going back out there--without the Roundup.


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