The volunteers I am talking about are of the plant variety.
‘Volunteers,’ if I have the term down correctly, are the plants that end up in your garden in places that you may not have intended for them.
I have fought with ‘volunteers’ for most of my life, often taking them carefully out and moving them to new locations, locations that I find more suitable for them, or more pleasing to my eye.
I have pretty much stopped the aforementioned exercise. I am leaving them where they are. Maybe, after all, Mother Nature has a better plan for them than I do, maybe that is why they are where they are.
My favorite volunteer location is within view of our chairs and table on the patio. It is the strip of land where I keep the garbage (unfortunately since I would rather not see it), the recycling, the composter, and my hose from the rain barrel. It is a narrow strip with a fence behind it and formerly it had those blasted marble stones in it that were there when we moved in. Despite my efforts, the stones keep rising, or so it seems, to the surface and when I can, I remove them.
At the present time, I have about four ‘volunteers’ there, plants that have literally done a ‘Christopher Columbus’ by finding a location and landing on it.
Here are the volunteers: my mother’s infamous opium poppy, coneflowers (that I bought over thirty years ago when we first moved to Deerfield), deep red coral bells (immigrants from the ‘neighbor from Hell’s’ yard), and a glorious hybrid lavender-pink phlox plant of about 36″ in height (that blew over from the back door).
I have decided that from now on, I am going to be accepting, and if a plant that I like decides on a new position, than it can have it.