Judge and Jury

I'm back!

If you recall, I posted that, along with all the company I was expecting, I had also been summoned for jury duty.  I met my obligation and went to the courthouse on the appointed date.  Much to my surprise, I was chosen to serve as a juror.

It is a serious responsibility to be a juror, knowing that someone's life (or at least a portion of their life) is in your hands.  We had to look back to the past, and try to decide if there was sufficient evidence to convict.  Before we were presented with the evidence, I just kept thinking of how terrible it would be if we were to make the wrong decision.  It would be truly criminal if we were to find the defendant guilt if he actually wasn't.  At the same time, if he were actually guilty, I was concerned about him being set free to possibly do the same thing again.  Being a juror weighed heavily on my mind, as it should have.

After all the evidence was presented, and a vote was taken, I was relieved to find that each of us had made the same decision. We found the defendant not guilty.

I have always been a bit cynical of our justice system.  Being a juror, however, has made me much more proud of our judicial system.  It's not perfect by any means, but being tried in front of others rather than having a dictatorship or committee decide one's fate is something we as Americans should be proud of.

Donna at Gardens Eye View asks us to look forward in her quarterly Seasonal Celebrations, while Beth at Plant Postings asks us to look back in her quarterly Lessons Learned.  In both of these, I have realized that I am the sole judge and juror of my garden.  I am the one that decides my garden's fate.  I am the dictator.

Sometimes, those decisions are easy.  But sometimes, they are extremely hard to render.

The beautiful blooms of the lilies are my Seasonal Celebration.  They have already started blooming in my garden.  It is a thrill each summer to see the lilies in full bloom.

Of all the lilies I have, the pure white Casa Blanca lilies are the ones that are, to me, the most stunning.  Tall and strong, they reach up to over 5 ft tall.  Their thick stems hold up to the winds and storms that move quickly through this area.  Their white, innocent blooms pop in my colorful garden.

Even the company I've had recently gasped one night when they looked out the windows over the garden, and the white lilies were glowing in the moonlight.  In those few seconds, a decision was made, and I ordered another 50 more bulbs.

So, what is the Lesson Learned?  Well, I have two Chinese indigos (indigofera decora).  They are beautiful plants, and I knew when I planted them that they had a tendency to sucker.  I thought they had plenty of room to spread out where I planted them.  Obviously, their idea of plenty of room and my idea of plenty of room are two different things.  They are suckering all over the place, and have outgrown their allotted space.  They are encroaching on the neighboring plants.  As pretty as they are, and as hard as it is to come to this decision, they need to be removed.  If they are not, the other plants will suffer and eventually die.

Past the spirea, past the rose,
the indigofera (with its small, pink blooms) is beautiful,
but not a nice neighbor.

I have a hard time removing plants.  And yet, I know that, in order to have a garden that is beautiful to me, I must remove plants from time to time.  It is a hard lesson for me, and one I seem to have to re-learn every year.  I must be strong.  I must remove these plants.  They are guilty only of doing what they naturally do, but I know that they can not be allowed to stay.  I have been agonizing over this decision for months, but I know what the final determination will be.

I'm celebrating the lilies in my garden, and I've realized that I want more.  But the decision of removing the Chinese indigo has been a hard lesson to learn.  Still, I know that they must go.

Unfortunately, I now have the unpleasant task of being the executioner, too.