You know who you are.

We’ve had quite a long relationship, longer than I can remember. Even as a small child I knew you and appreciated your “beauty”. Others scorned you, tried to get rid of you. I called you “pretty”. And you were - bright and warm from the start of spring, then you would grow white and fluffy and I had to help you out (I couldn’t resist) so that you could spread and grow. We shared those care-free summer days, and it was nice.

But now things have changed. You see, I now own a house, with a marvellous yard and beautiful trees and flowers. Flowers planted with love by the previous owner. I highly doubt you were part of her plan, but there you were, stubborn and refusing to leave, as we tried to tend to the garden just enough that the neighbours would not banish us, or dismiss us as poor home owners. If we could get along, if you could only contain yourself to a small patch, that would be fine. But already, you have claimed space in the flower gardens and on the lawn, space meant for the grass and flowers already there. You’re waiting for the warmth the May and June will bring to bloom to full glory. I was too naive, unaware last year to play a part this early in the season. I’m not going to let you win this year. You overstepped your territory, and I’m letting you know that we’re through.