Yesterday, April and I were having one of those neighborly talks in the street while Bradley attacked (with a vengeance) the weeds in front of his fence. I said something like “that’s what I should be doing” and Bradley said something like “your garden is definitely under stress.”

Bradley knows about these things.  His degree is in Landscape Architecture and he makes his living as a designer of both inside and outside spaces.  When he bought Nancy and Gwen’s house three or four years ago, he transformed it into a showplace in nothing flat.  So, I perked up my ears just a little when he made his not-by-chance remark.

“Just a little” are the key words here.  I took note of what he said, but I didn’t ask for any explanation.  Knowing Bradley, relieving stress in my garden (if that is what he would recommend) would mean a whole lot of work or a whole lot of money, neither of which are on my current bucket list, at least not with regard to the garden.

As a matter of fact, I was just thinking that our garden looks pretty good.  The tubs of York roses are blooming wonderfully.  The bright yellow day lilies and the huge orange tiger lilies brighten the beds.  The rock rose and the cyanothis are in full bloom and some of the Shasta daisies are showing themselves.  Besides that, the Oriental poppies and hydrangeas and lupine are all in blossom and the honeysuckle – all thirty or forty feet of it encasing our old pear tree – fills the garden with fragrance,

So, rather than get stressed out, myself, I chose to ignore Bradley’s remark.  And the weeds.   Mostly