while i totally appreciate the "weeds" (LOL), i had to go with "inch by inch". i'm a methodical planner and this is literally how my garden is growing (in size) and evolving.
the latest project is underway (a raised vegetable garden in progress). a couple more days and it should be finished except for the block caps which i have to buy. all the other building stuff has been accumulating for several years.
"Despite not being a devout organic gardener, Nick didn't want to pollute the environment with any of the pharmaceutical remainders within his earthly remains. So, he had his corpse dispatched into space on a trajectory for the Sun."
I fought the weeds and the weeds won.. is mine However that let me be your compost I'm in love with you ..brings to mind a science fiction story where children that did not mind their parents were turned into trees for decoration ,. cannot seem to remember the name of the series though..Odd...
I remember a folk tale from my youth. There was a very old couple that did'nt want to die alone but always with each other. A fairy came and granted their wish and turned them into two old oak trees and they were together forever as two oak trees.
Don't know why that appealed so much to me.
It was supposed to have taken place in the Black Forest of Germany.
there is also a greek methology tale similar, this old couple was visited by angles that were granted one wish since the couple took them in and fed them, their wish was to die together. They did and they were two different trees (don't remember the kind now, too many years since hs) out of one truck. That is why I pick the two pin oak trees.
I selected "inch by inch" because it's been a lifetime of trials & errors with increasing success over the years. If my grave ends of covered in bermuda grass, I would answer differently (the weeds won). I'm glad that I won't be around to find out.
Though I did fight the Houttuynia and I did win, and I did change the vegetable garden into The Park, since Jack can't continue to fight the crows and the brutal heat any longer, "Let me be your compost" is my choice. Here's a poem many of you have probably seen and I only changed the name to honor my husband who toiled over the vegetable garden for 20 years and provided us and our neighbors with so much wonderful produce:
Post Humus (by Patti Tana)
Scatter my ashes in my garden
so I can be near my loves.
Say a few honest words,
sing a gentle song,
join hands in a circle of flesh.
Please tell some stories
about me making you laugh.
I love to make you laugh.
When I've had time to settle
and green gathers into buds,
remember I love blossoms
bursting in spring.
As the season ripens
remember my persistent passion.
And if you come in my garden
on an August afternoon,
pluck a bright red globe,
let juice run down your chin
and the seeds stick to your cheek.
When I'm dead I want folks to smile
and say, "That Jack, he sure is
some great tomato!"
My husband and I always said, we wanted to be composted and spread on the garden. If course, we moved away and never got the Compostumbler to make compost anyway and last I saw my garen, the weeds were winning. I vote for Geoff's answer!