June brought sugar snap peas, I trained the vines to grow up the chain link fence of the dog pen. In spite of an unknown pest, the beans grew and I began to harvest them in July. As expected, weeds and uninvited plants began to pop up here and there. But I was able to stay on top of them by yanking them out and adding them to the mulch between rows. By midsummer, my garden was growing, producing and looking neat and cute in the back yard.
Then August came and hell broke loose. It seemed that overnight, volunteers overtook every available walking space I had made between the rows. Suddenly, there were a few too many tomato plants. Where did they come from? Must be the compost that I used to enrich the soil. I was far too lenient by allowing (only) two "squash" vines to meander instead of pulling them out and throwing them in the compost pile. I felt bad about ruining perfectly good plants even if I hadn't intended to plant them. Perhaps "hell" isn't exactly the best way to describe a flowering, flourishing garden, is it?
I could make an attempt to clean up the madness. I could pull out the bolted lettuce, get a handle on some the of the weeds that rival my tallest tomato plants. And what I really should do is redo the perennial flower garden that provides a border along the house. That Montauk daisy is out of control. But I don't want to do any of it. I like it when the garden is a bit unruly, doing its own thing, growing and not caring if it fits inside my little make shift fence, or not.