Welcome to the jungle

The wife and I moved into our house in Worthington last August and walked outside together to survey the lush landscaping.
“They’re weeds,” Sandy said, pointing to an area saturated with tall, green plants with pointy leaves.
“No, they’re not,” I said.
“They sure look like weeds to me. I think we should pull them out,” she said.
“Let’s see if flowers grow,” said I.
Our place is wonderful, especially if you like outdoor plants. I love them. I don’t know how to control them, but sure do appreciate the way they make our yard look “filled in.”
Sandy thinks it’s a little TOO filled-in. We have a plant area in the front lawn next to our deck area and another bigger plant area starting at the back yard deck and winding all the way around the side of the house to the opposite corner. In short, about three-fourths of the circumference of our house is encircled with plants, and for most of the way the plants are packed more densely than the hair on a yak.
The variety is amazing. There must be 40 to 50 varieties of plant species around our house. And, yes, I know at least some of them are weeds, because I’ve chopped more than my share of healthy thistles over the past year (and although thistles can, technically, sprout purple flowers, I know a thistle when I see one).
All these non-weed plants, apparently, are what they call “perennials.” I know this now, but I didn’t know it during the winter months when everything was barren.
Sandy and I thought that, maybe, nothing would grow back in the spring.
Boy, were we wrong!
By late May, every square millimeter of our plant areas were filled in, and by early June many of the green things were as tall as our waists. I was correct about the flowers, because some of those “weeds” produced very pretty flowers of blue or white. I’m glad I didn’t hack them to death prematurely. But Sandy may yet be correct about some of the other odd-looking stalks; flowers have yet to grow on them, and unless they produce something pretty and fragrant in the next couple of weeks or so, I may have to admit she’s at least partially right.
Flowers or not, as of two weeks ago things had most definitely gotten out of hand. There was just too much of it all. It was looking like our own private jungle, so I stalked outdoors to take matters into my own hands.
The idea was to pull a few of the “plants” so as to give the others a little more room to breathe. But by then the mosquitos had taken up residence.
After two minutes I emerged from jungle covered in welts. There was a cloud of mosquitoes around my head, and they followed me all over the yard. Swatting furiously, I could not keep them off. The sound of them was ferocious, and I swear that they looked as large as small birds. The Amazon basin doesn’t have mosquitoes as big or as vicious as these.
This is, I suspect, what happens when you’ve got a jungle in your yard and you haven’t the wherewithal to deal with it.
But I’m not giving up. I’m going back there. I’m going to trim those overgrown plants if it’s the very last thing, I do — which it might. I just hope Sandy doesn’t find me lying there one day, covered in big red welts while wearing my pith helmet and holding a machete.

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