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This weekend wasn’t nearly as productive as last weekend.
Our front door remains unpainted. The weather was a little too chilly, too windy, too “it looks like rain” to warrant yanking the door off again.

I picked up all the branches and sticks in the yard so that Mike could mow. Our grass was nearly knee-high on Adam. I dug up some weeds and a thistle bush from the yard. Finally I turned my attention to the garage.

The previous owners had some trestles on the side of the garage for some vines to grow on. I’m not terribly familiar with vines since I didn’t grow up where there were lots of vines. These sprouted little nickle-sized flowers that stuck to the side of the garage. The side of the garage is riddled with the residue of these things. Since I want to paint the garage at some point the vines had to go. They’re quite invasive and as I yanked them down I seemed to get tangled in a web of curly vines.
The next trestle wasn’t rotting wood, it was metal and I grabbed it and pulled.
PAIN! OHMYGOD THE PAIN! My knee, my hand!
As I very delicately removed the thorny vine that had wormed its way under my capri pants and extracted one from my thumb I thought two things.
1)I really ought to be wearing my leather gardening gloves
and
2)Huh.. how ‘bout that. Roses, or rose vines anyway. Rose potential.
The vines, they all had to go, but since the roses aren’t actually attaching themselves to the garage they can stay. It may be tricky to paint around them, but I think it’s worth it.

The vines, well, they’ve been chopped down to the ground. Maybe they’ll grow back, or maybe I’ve killed them. I’m fine with either outcome. If they don’t come back, perhaps I can put up some new trestles and plant more roses or other plants that like to grow up things.