I’m like Lady Bird Johnson (up in here, up in here.)
The thorny subject: the wild rose bush in the corner of the yard. He doesn’t like it because it gets unruly, grows over the fence, and isn’t disciplined like your orderly and sanitized Home Depot shrubberies that bear blooms with no smell.
This is the first outdoor space I’ve really had. First garage, first yard, first non-apartment, really. And so, I don’t mind the wild tangle of peachy blooms that got a very severe haircut yesterday. I don’t mind that it grows with no agenda. I don’t mind that it pops blossoms when it feels like it. And I don’t mind practicing the Hypocratic Oath of Horticulture: First, do no garden shears.
Save the wild rose bush. Won’t you join my cause? There might even be a secret handshake or lapel pins.