So now, nearing the two-thirds mark of summer, how does the garden grow? Thank heavens it behaves like an independent entity for the most part. If you're not a neat-freak in the garden and don't really concern yourself all that much about the state of your grass, you're doing all right. In our backyard our grass is gradually succumbing to violets and a plant that looks quite like violets with lovely little purple flowers in early summer. It is a gift, so to speak, from our next-door neighbours who long ago gave up worrying about the state of their lawns and once actually seeded their grass with clover, so clover too is making headway on our grass.

I learned over the years just how intrusive violets can be, growing helter-skelter wherever they feel like setting down roots, displacing other plants at will. And then I discovered that Ladies Mantle has a propensity to do likewise. And lilies? Well, day lilies feel entitled to spread and spread and just keep on spreading. For that matter, I've found Annabelle Hydrangeas to have a very similar habit. As for Harlequin vine, I innocently planted a few some years back, admired them enormously for their colourful foliage, their sweet little white flowers, and then realized they were busy taking over the garden.

I call these lovely plants garden thugs. And then I discovered that one of summer's perkiest, sweetest and most lovable vines -- Morning Glories -- are capable of doing the very same thing. Once having planted them they just kept reseeding themselves everywhere. And everywhere is where they can be found in the garden, twining and curling their hearts away and sending up those irresistible purple-blue blossoms. They've taken over, truly they have. Just as well they're so beautiful.

Saturdays is when I go out into the garden with a large compost bag and snip here and there, yank up in various instances, cut back where it's needed, and generally make a stab at making things a little more presentable, instilling a hint of order. Bringing the tidy housewife in me out to the gardener in me. After I've seen to the garden, there's the sweeping-up to be done, the walkways well dusted with detritus falling off the trees, the vegetation.

And when I'm finished I can relax about it. I've done as much as I can, as much as I'm prepared to, and I've got that heavily-perspiring look to prove it. It's also when I can admire the handiwork that nature has allowed me to run free with. And to say that I'm satisfied with the results would be understating things. A stroll through the garden, front and back, finding little surprises here and there - like a few tomato plants I had no idea were even there - make for pleasant findings.

When we return from our ravine walk with Jackie and Jillie they make a swift beeline directly for the porch, knowing that the birds and the squirrels will have left a few of the bread squares over for them to feast on, though they hardly need it. It's when they can wander around the front of the house, the only time they're able to, because when we're working outside at the front of the house it's too easy to overlook the mischief they can get into. Running onto the road is our nightmare, even though ours is a quiet street with little traffic. But when they see or hear anyone walking by, their instinct is to rush over and give us a scare over their welfare....