In my defense, I really don’t have any defense. I have been in my house for a year and one of the best things that just enchanted me is that I have space for a garden. Last year my kids and I took that piece of hard baked dirt and made some rickety flower beds with herbs and strawberries, and a few attempts at veggies and some tomatoes that crashed their cages because they got so big. We also overdid it on the pumpkins that took over the garden along with a gigantic moonflower plant that I’m pretty sure was inhabited by fairies or something. It was magical like fairies themselves came in and helped the plants grow. We were on fire with our green thumbs (most information supplied by google) and the plants thrived beyond my wildest dreams. We spade turned that garden over and over to get the weeds out, all summer long. My son is a hard worker and I was on board for the fun of being with him, and having our mission and because truly, it did feel like a secret cottage garden.
This year, I want it to be just as much fun and we’ve planted stuff but the weeds are just so fricking bad that I did the unthinkable: I used weed killer. Yes, I’m supposed to be an earth-in-tune magical person who can work with the land and yadda yadda but those damn weeds were just not going to give up. I mean I turned the whole thing with a spade. I even got an energy star battery garden cultivator to help. We did
a good job and then POW it rained and it looks like hell again. So I did it. I sold my soul to the modern world and sprayed some of the worst offenders with weed killer. I did avoid the sprays with some of the worst chemicals that I know harm bees and animals and people too for that matter. The one I used is less potent and acts in a different way than blasting it with roundup or something. That means the killer is much slower and the weeds are mocking me and may survive. Some of them look like they could eat children or small pets. (They will outlive us all.)
But really, there’s just so much open ground in there in between the planted areas and that open ground is full of crazy mutant greens.
So, someone should take away my witch credential or secret decoder ring or the witch badge or whatever it is we have when we’re magically legit because it turns out I’m just a weed-spraying suburban woman who is just desperate to get to the enchanted part of the garden season and whose back isn’t prepared to keep turning that soil and raking the demon weeds out.
Don’t tell anyone. I’ll try harder. Maybe if I put a fairy house in there, it will make up for it?