Can't Think Of A Headline

     (Title with a tip of the ol' poetic license to Vincent Furnier, who knows how to hang a lantern on a lack of inspiration.*)

     Had a lovely shopping trip yesterday afternoon and picked up some of the materiel needed to get the raised flowerbed out front going.  It was a weed-filled disaster last year; I finally put a tarp over it and gave up.  This week, as time permits, the worst weeds under the tarp will get dug out, I'll lay down a barrier cloth (which I have), secure it with landscape pins (which I don't have), cover it with decent topsoil and sow with assorted wildflowers, plus a few taller ones at the center.

     It's also time to get some more stonecrop for the formerly bare spot next to the steps.  I like the look of the plant and it does all right on that patch or ground; I have been filling it in with more and more of them for the last few years.  The mint and hosta bed wants raked out, too, and I spent a little while sorting out the "Creeping Charlie" (a pervasive though harmless and somewhat decorative edible weed with purple flowers) from the mint -- it likes to sneak in among the fragrant herb and the leaves of the two plant resemble one another, especially early on.

     My front yard is once again overrun with with small white flowers and wild violets, which I am reluctant to mow.  The strip between the sidewalk and street must get mowed this week and sooner rather than later.  In the back yard, the battle between me and the Winter Creeper continues -- I keep pulling it up but it's determined stuff, nowhere near as friendly as the Creeping Charlie.  Winter Creeper attacks trees and will kill them if not kept in check; it grows on fences and gets into the wood of them, too.  There are still plenty of violets out back and --despite my best efforts -- no shortage of dandelions.  I spent some time Sunday evening on a "lion hunt" in the near section of the back yard and out front.  Can't get them all but they can be kept in check -- and I don't really mind one or two, just don't let them know that!
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* As in "We can't even think of a word that rhymes," one of the most recursive lyrics ever, found in the song School's Out.  Yes, that Vincent Furnier.  And now that I have written my piece, I could easily find a title, but I think I'll leave the one I started with for the sake of this footnote.