Before . . .

Well, our new yard is, to be perfectly frank, not what we (I) had wanted.

It's going to take a great deal of work to make it even remotely acceptable.

It doesn't look so bad if you just stand on the back deck and look around, at noon on a bright, sunny day.

Nor even if you just take a peek into the back yard from the edge of the driveway.

Small child added for scale.

But if you start to look closer, you can see years and years of neglect and bad landscaping decisions.

I'm sure this used to be, started to be, or was supposed to be some nicely-laid pathway.

Instead, it's a sand pit with some concrete stepping stones, too small and too widely spaced to be of any use to anyone.

The trees in the back aren't the sort of trees one deliberately plants as a screen.  They're just junk trees, weed trees.  They've grown up in and around the crape myrtles that were probably planted intentionally as a screen and are now so choked out by trees and invasive vines that they may not be salvageable.

But I have a plan.

I also have a man with a chainsaw . . .

. . . and two fascinated spectators.

"Are you sure it's safe to sit here, Mom?"

Just you wait.