Doing the dirty work.

Most days you’ll be shown the spring buds, the big blooms, the thriving space. After 33 years of never being exposed, it feels like poison ivy is now up my nose. All it took was one exposure for a future of paranoia - it’s manifesting everywhere.

All the while, the risks are evident and the work still needs to get worked. I trust that clients will be honest, transparent, and conscientious of how their space will affect me. That said, we simply don’t know what we don’t know. Until we do.

Maybe it’s a reminder to slow down. That this work is intentional. That we do it for health + beauty rather than for speed. That no plant is bad, but every plant has its place.

A client recently noted to me how weeds appear near plants that look exactly alike. “Pay attention!” she said. “You’ll notice it everywhere!” It’s true. The similarities to nearby plants - sometimes weeds love to play tricks on you. Though the term “weed” is subjective. A dearest love for me may be a dreaded bystander for you. “Low-value succulents,” as one once called them, removed from her and received graciously by you.

No garden is “no maintenance,” I always say. Exactly how much, depends on you…

Poison ivy, with its contrasting pink stems and bright green leaves, reminds me of Sour Watermelon Candy. A deer in headlights as its vibrance catches your eye, diminished by the realization of the other side.

Bush-like or vining - it moves far and wide. Often alongside other ivies, creepers, alone or intertwined. Dead or alive, burned or composted, still - her influence thrives.

And then there are those who simply can’t feel her grasp. Untouchable.

What must we do to survive?