In another week, emerging leaves will provide a measure of safety as I romp through the garden. Undoubtedly, I’ve destroyed several somethings in recent weeks. I do my best, but there’s too much, and if I can’t see them, what am I to do? I only hope that I haven’t mangled a ladyslipper or some other late arriving treasure.

Today, there are thousands, maybe millions of seedlings that must be weeded out. It seems a shame to pluck out so many tiny Japanese maples, both finely dissected green leaves (from ‘Seriyu’) and a variety of red leafed maples in varied shapes that give a hint to their parentage from the dozens of maples in the garden. If I spot an interesting leaf, I’ll let it stay to see if it becomes anything interesting, but mostly I mindlessly pluck, pluck, pluck.

Hellebores multiply like rabbits to the tenth degree. There are perhaps two hundred mature, flowering size hellebores in the garden, but within a foot or two of each, there are many dozens of seedlings. Some are two years old, others only a year old, with fertilized seed waiting its turn (below).

Of course, the largest percentage of the seedlings must be discarded, but while the faded flowers still show some color and form, I’ll dig and pot a few hefty seedlings from beneath ones with double flowers or interesting colors. This could easily be another two hundred or a thousand, but it won’t be. The remainder have to go, and while handfuls are sterile hybrids that will never have seed, that’s the minority. A handful of hellebores can turn into a garden full in a hurry.

It seems that a patch of ‘Pagoda’ trout lilies (Erythronium, above) has disappeared. In its place beneath a dogwood is a small clump of rhodea (Rhodea japonica) that has strayed from a more robust clump a few feet away. No, it really was a trout lily, and yes, it’s gone. No way I pulled them out or stomped them into submission, but things happen in the garden. Not all is for the best. Two larger patches of the native trout lily (Erythronium americanum) are thriving nearby, but I suspect all are too young to flower this year.

In the same small area beneath the dogwood, the trilliums have multiplied nicely. Today, I spotted a small something beside one of the largest, oldest trilliums. It’s a goldenseal (Hydrastis canadensis, above). Certainly, not one I planted. The small clump planted in the dry side garden perished a year ago, but somehow, one made its way out front. No way am I pulling it out. If it likes it here, it stays.