The longest running battle has been with chickweed. My first spring here I wondered what that blanket of yellow green plants were. Turns out it was a 6-inch thick mat of chickweed full of seed. In my naivete I pulled and tossed it into the compost. Some of the seeds were heated enough to expire, the rest came back to visit the following year. I became obsessed with this weed and have devoted numerous hours pulling and bagging the little devils. Now I'm relatively free of chickweed. I still have to spend some time in the spring watching for the crazy chick seed insurgents trying to colonize the cool shady spots.

In my puffed up and proud moments with my success with the chickweed, I didn't realize there was more to learn on weeds and seeds. A few years ago, before my weed watch was fully operational, I noticed a gorgeous purple violet blooming in the lawn. It brought back a lot of fond memories of my grandmother's house. She had a row of bushy violets blooming at the back of the house like a ruffle between the foundation and the lawn. I soon learned that wild violets are not friendly little ruffles. The nostalgic invite I made called all violets to dwell at my house. These purple villains have food storage, a thick carbohydrate underground stem that keeps them going even after a desperate attempt on my part to use (gasp!) chemical controls. You only know how desperate I was if you, like me, keep close to organic in all things. I thought it worked, it didn't. The top leaves died and the stem lived on. It felt like a violet revenge when they resurfaced, I swear... more robust than before. Last fall, digging one violet at a time, one swath of the lawn was cleared.

Look for me out back. I'll be pulling violets.