Every May it happens.I drop to my knees,just outside the back door,raise my arms to the sky and shout,"That's it!I give up!Take my flower beds,you killer weeds!Blackberry vines（藤蔓）,this land is yours!Vines,climb up and kill my trees one by one!I'm done!”

    Then I get up,lie down on the swing,and close my eyes.I'm sure I can hear the weeds growing and the vines creeping in（悄悄爬进）.I swear they are all laughing at me,too.They don't even have the manners to wait until I leave there.

    There is no denying that gardens are battle zones in the spring.I blame it on those April and May rains.Once the heat moves in,I can control what gets watered and survives,but those early showers even out（平均分配）the battlefield.

    Garden tools alone make it clear that gardening isn't an easy thing.My old cart seems to have the personality of a tank,and I'm pretty sure my spade is second cousin to a dagger.

    By late June,both sides are worn down.I've given some of the yard over to the weeds—you just can't win them all.That's a battle for next year.There is no clear victory for me,but I've stood my ground for yet another season.