Today I woke up feeling dread. Bad news, in my experience, comes in waves and this whole year has been one wave after another. So I did what I tend to do when this happens… yard work. I hate yard work but I can’t deny that it makes me feel better. So when I had time during my lunch break I grabbed my work gloves and my wheelbarrow and went outside.

This November, it’s too warm and dry. It feels a bit alien. And yard work put me in close proximity to bugs, which I also don’t enjoy. And my yard is big. There is so much work to do.

The truth is, that this year I neglected my yard. There was so much going on, from family drama, deaths, and life-changing illnesses in those close to me. I spent most of the year in survival mode and my yard, which I normally enjoy, felt like a burden. I knew I was neglecting it. And every time I glanced at it, I saw all the things I was letting go. Greenbrier in planted beds, poison ivy in every shaded corner, invasive species like knotweed and mugwort sprouting in all corners, and my poor neglected koi pond.

So what did I do this year? I spent my time indoors… not looking at it.

Now it’s fall and all those plants have seeded.

This afternoon I went to one of the side beds and painstakingly pulled out weeds. They were filled with those hitchhiker seeds. I got fistfuls of them in my hair. Some flew off and fell down on the dirt. They’ll probably take root and be back next year. Ticks crawled up my pant legs, it no longer gets cold enough to reliably keep them at bay.

In the middle of the bed, I spied something surprising.

See, when I bought my house it was clear that who ever lived here before took great pride in the yard. Perfectly manicured and designed but I do question their plant choices. I have eight varieties of bamboo that were planted with no thought to contain them. I have finicky trees that don’t survive well in this zone that are planted way too close to the house and septic system.

So when we moved in, despite not having a green thumb, I bought milkweed plants. I can’t tackle the larger problems but it’s something small I can do. There are several native varieties of milkweed that I thought could do well here. I had read about the declining bee and butterfly population and I wanted to do something that would help. Lots of effort and a couple of seasons later… all my lovely plants were dead.

I don’t know if the milkweed I spotted, seven thin stalks among the weeds, somehow survived against the odds and escaped my notice. Or if this was something new that had come along on its own.

I finished my efforts and bagged the weeds and hopefully the majority of their seeds. I put away my gloves and wheelbarrow. But on my way back to the front door, I stopped at the milkweed pods. Most of the milkweed seeds had already dispersed, but there were still a few holding on. So I helped spread them out.

Because I live here. And even if maintaining my yard is overwhelming, I’d be remiss if I let it go.

And you know what? I did feel better when I went back inside.