After weeks of neglect caused by vacation and rainy weather, I reentered the world of my garden and was dismayed.

Everything was eaten, dead or sick. Insects, mildews and end-of-season blues.

Suddenly, the place that gives me so much joy in May was irritating me in August. I wanted to take a gas can and a pack of matches and start over.

Instead, I do what I often do in late summer. I go around my gardens with my little black-and-white marble composition book and make notes about what needs to be done this fall and what will need to be done in spring.

They are always long lists, but this year the list was not only long, it looked impossibly hard.

I confess I am not as strong as I think I am. And digging out old beds with deep roots, removing shrubs and dividing perennials is harder work every year. I like planting much more.

So I did what some of my garden friend do. I hired a guy.

His name is Luke and he is young and strong and an artist, to boot. He knows his flowers, but he also knows color, shape and design. I trust his eye more than I trust my own.

I had him tear out a bed along the shady side of the house that had been in place for probably 20 years. It was overgrown and out of shape and had a couple of nasty bald spots. He filled it in with Leafgro and I will design and plant it this fall and in the spring.

He also divided and replanted a hosta bed that had become congested and shapeless.

This isn't all that is on my list. Luke will have to come back. And there is plenty left for me to do.

I will do it at my own pace - a little slower every year.