My plan with the garden up until now has been to clean it up, figure out what was there, and make the best of it. I trimmed carefully lest the plants be traumatized. I accepted the basic design as a necessary part of the garden. I was afraid to make a mistake.
Today I discovered I want all the old out. Not that the timid beginnings were wasted—I needed them to recognize that emptying the space was the least wasteful use of the dirt.
As always, I could not get entirely too carried away because I am limited by the size of my green can, but in a few more weeks I now expect to see dirt that can be rototilled, a space for fruit trees.
And I did take the pig statue, the dead topiary frame, and a pre-ruined column planter out to the street to be absorbed by the sidewalk gremlins.
