Once upon a time, the area behind the stone wall, behind the pear trees and adjacent to the rock ring, was a beautiful plane of brown mulch, a spot for contemplation, reading, or playing hide-and-seek. Every year weeds moved in, slowly at first, and we could pick them, follow the roots, and retain this small area of open space for ourselves.
Until this year.
The weeds are so happy here, growing taller than I am, pushing toward the sunlight. I've never seen them this tall, whatever they are. You can see in the top photo that Ted has whacked the ones that crept inside the rock ring where we have our fire pit. After all, we need to be able to make s'mores.
Now I'm torn. Chop down the rest, or leave them to stand tall and let the forest reclaim what it will?