Some garden beds are better left unmade

I'm a fool for flattery.

My friends and husband know me so well, they'll heap on the false praise when they want something. "Nobody does it as well as you, Penny!" I preen, I purr, I do whatever they ask.

And now I know just how bad I've got it. A couple of casual compliments tossed my way last summer had me out in the front-yard beds for two straight days last weekend, practically sun-up to sundown. I neglected all the other chores - the floors, the kitchen, the laundry, the gym, the groceries - trying to restore those freeze-dried beds to their full August glory.

Because now that I've heard it once, I ache to hear it again: "Wow, your front yard looks beautiful."

This is the "garden" that doesn't get fertilized or watered. The garden that gets only a whack-back in the summer when the sweet potato vine starts snaking in through the front door. I stick stuff there as an afterthought. Not good enough for the garden out back? The one no one sees? It's the front beds for you, buster.

Last summer, it somehow all came together. That crazy sprawling sweet-potato vine (cuttings pinched from in front of a restaurant), the purple queen (pinched from Mom's garden years ago), the flaming glorybower (meandered over from the side yard), the gaillardia (thinned from a crowded backyard bed). I didn't realize it was actually looking pretty good until my sister and her husband stopped by and lavished praise.

I had to step outside to see what they were talking about.

Now, the front beds matter. I want to get them looking at least as good as they did last year. No, better.

So, after spending two months of weekends in the backyard (did I mention, nobody really sees the backyard?) I devoted last weekend to the front. I pulled out dead vines and leaves, raked back the old pine bark nuggets and freebie oak leaf mulch (pilfered from the neighbors' curbside recycling last spring), pulled weeds, dug in Black Kow, and sprinkled fertilizer.

I relocated a few more gaillardias from the back and wrestled a huge old society garlic out of its pot, sawed it into two plants and stuck them in the ground. I un-potted Kim's Mexican sage (Christmas gift) and added that, too.

And then I watered. A lot.

I've checked those front beds all week, and they still don't look a whole lot better than they did after the freeze. Maybe I'm trying too hard. I've found that my plants and I tend to get along best when we all keep our expectations low.

As much as I yearn to hear it again -- "Oh, Penny, beautiful!" -- if I don't see some action out there soon, I'm going back to forgetting about those beds.

Which is probably just what they want.