I must continually balance care of this garden. At what point is my hand too intrusive (rarely) or too light? I am not the only human occupant of this garden, so I must not allow patios to become overly cluttered by debris or paths to be obstructed by overhanging foliage. Certainly, birds, bees, and other beasts care little, but Barbara occasionally lends a helping hand to chop stems of hostas and mountain mints that carelessly stray over stone paths.

I fret upon seeing greenery tossed into the garbage. How far has she gone this time? My cuttings are stashed under a nearby shrub to decay, but the trashbin is evidence that my wife is on the prowl. No doubt, I’ve overlooked straying branches, but her eye demands  more tidiness. Yes, she defers to my vision until a line is crossed. I suspect she carefully considers each chop of offending foliage, but there are few lines that have not been crossed.

The garden must not be left to become wild, I think. Weeds must be managed, and paths kept open for ready access, but this is not a formal garden. I give no helpful hints on pruning since little is done. A real gardener is never without his pruners, I hear, but mine remain on the shelf and not by my side. Of course, dead branches are removed, and by early spring, remnants of perennials from the prior year must be cut. For years, I’ve promised to diminish the size of widely spreading paperbushes (Edgeworthia chrysantha) that have overwhelmed several neighbors and continue their outward spread. Someday, I’ll get around to it.

The garden approaches the time when every inch is covered with no space for weeds. I am often accused of having one (or more) of everything, and unquestionably, this is wildly inaccurate. No matter how I strive, there are more plants I wish for than have already been planted. No matter how I cram, there will never be space for every redbud or dogwood, or even a fraction of the Japanese maples I lust after. Solomon’s Seals, mayapples? The list is lengthy, even if my current obsession with the aralia family (Araliaceae, below) is excluded.

In recent years, I’ve carved spaces for redbuds and Japanese maples, even as ones planted decades earlier grow closer to the paths. Each tree must have room to show its character, though all will eventually merge into the canopy with neighbors. A stand-alone space is not required. No doubt, this is too much for some folks.