Thursday, July 17, 2014
The Morality of Weeding
Yesterday was a very domestic day. I got out and worked in the garden for an hour or so in the morning, pulling clumps of weeds and unruly grass out of our iris and euphorbia beds. Am I the only one who has an internal ethical debate about weeding? I hate the fact that I'm killing all these plants, not to mention unseen bugs and snails and whatnot, but at the same time the garden looks so much better when it's weeded. And our own plants will be healthier, right? So I guess it has to be done.
I am trying to walk a middle path -- I want the garden weeded, but it doesn't have to be pristine and we will not resort to chemicals.
Ugh. I really am so exhausting, with all my moral dilemmas. I exhaust even myself.
Anyway, later in the day, after I'd done this work, a gardener showed up next door to work on our neighbor's yard. So Dave and I asked him to come over and survey ours, and tell us how much he would charge to tame the jungle, bringing it to a point where we just need to maintain it. We haven't received his estimate yet, but if the price is right we may take that route. Is that a moral solution -- pay someone to kill the weeds and bugs?!
We had quiche and fruit salad for lunch, left over from our Bastille Day dinner on the patio Monday evening. (Dave read that the French celebrate Bastille Day with outdoor picnics, so we attempted to join in.) Dave is still cooking more vegetarian fare, for which I am thankful. He barbecued steaks last night, though, and I must say they were terrific.
Yesterday afternoon we completed our move-in inventory. Before we moved in, the landlord had an inspector walk through the apartment and note every scratch, every nail hole, every chip to every fixture and piece of woodwork. We had to point out any discrepancies, to accurately record the condition of the place when we took occupancy. So we combed each room and made our own list, where it differed from the inspector's. The process took more than an hour and the persnickety little details were enough to drive us crazy. ("He says there are four nail holes in this wall, but I count five.")
Olga has developed a habit of streaking out the back door (particularly when she sees a squirrel in the yard) and leaping through the flower bed that Dave just planted. She has already inflicted some damage on our new verbena and lavender. Needless to say, this has not gone over well, but I'm not sure how to stop it. I think we may simply need to allow her to pave her own path through the garden.
(Photo: The couches and end tables we bought from the previous tenants, who were our coworkers. We get very interesting light in the evenings!)