Who are you?

There are things out there I don't recognize. Going into my second season with over 100 varieties of plants, I'm afraid to weed. I can pull the chickweed without hesitation. I can spot the wild onions. I even know what a rudbeckia seedling looks like. But some of the things out there, I have no clue.

I know you. You're one of those 15 cent asters I purchased at the end of the season and placed along the slope between the potager beds. I left your dead foliage all winter and just recently snipped it off to give you more light.



I know you. You're a clearance rack Black & Blue salvia. I was worried you wouldn't return. At least one other of your kind is also showing new growth across from the bird bath. Maybe the winter wasn't as wet and damaging to salvias as I expected. I left your dead foliage and stalks all winter long. Maybe that had something to do with it.



I know you. Your fragrance gives you away. My how you've spread. You're the red bee balm I loved so much last year.



I know one of you. You're a larkspur seedling. There are tons of you scattered around the meadow and perennial bed. Your bluish friend might be a poppy. Or maybe it's a nigella seedling. How am I supposed to know?



You're something. I know that. I pulled the last of your dead, rotting stalks away from your crown today. Are you echinacea? Maybe?



And you. Oh, I really hate you. I don't know what you are, but you're everywhere in the perennial bed by the road. I pulled you last year, knowing I didn't plant it. Still you grew. And this year, you've spread to cover a 4' x 4' wide area. WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY RUDBECKIA?



Last year, I enjoyed weeding. I knew what I had planted and was able to pull the weeds and undesirables. This spring, I'm almost content to give everything free reign. There's so much weeding to be done. And next year, it'll be worse having added several new, larger beds to the yard. More on that later.