And it was crowded.
Just a week or two ago, I spent a fruitful afternoon on my hands and knees, picking weeds in my garden. With each pluck, I hoped I wasn't pulling something I'd recently planted.
Because, with all my good intentions, I didn't do much thinking about where I planted stuff.
I pulled what looked like weeds, but not unlike other areas of my life, I didn't really do much thinking when it came to what got planted where. I just wanted to get it planted. Get it done. Then I'd sit back and watch the fruitful outcome of my good intentions.
I simply figured I'd just be able to tell the difference, once everything started growing.
Not so simple.
Tending to the garden has been a challenge, and it's by my design, due to my poor planning.
I think I know what I'll be doing early tomorrow morning, before the heat takes hold.
There are some redemptive elements to the garden, something that will provide quantifiable nourishment, if I can find my way past the weeds.
But time, sun, water and an inherent weed-like constitution has made this sorry little plant the life of the party.
There are other key players that have decided to show up to this wildly disorganized garden party, despite the temporary early admission of a few unsavory types.
There's more arugula than I and everyone I know could possibly consume.
I've ritualistically plucked the flowering tops off of each plant almost every morning, which obviously has resulted in the spread of this tasty, peppery delight.
So to recap: I know I need to be the bouncer tomorrow morning, putting some muscle into playing the tough guy. Thinning the herd.
Some unsavory elements will just have to go.
It's the necessity of every decent garden party. Inviting the right combination of guests to create something healthy, something good.