My backyard is a hot mess right now, y’all.
We finally went ahead and did it—took down four trees. Three invasives that never should’ve been there to begin with, and one old pecan that was sick and barely holding on. It was time. No question about it.
But whew… when I tell you this yard looks rough without them, I mean rough.
Right now it’s weeds, sand, and that quiet little voice in the back of my mind going, “Well… now what?”
Truth is, I hadn’t put much into the backyard these past six years. It stayed so shaded, nothing ever really stood a chance.It was easier to leave it be than try to fight it. But now? All that shade is gone, and for the first time it feels like I’ve been handed a blank slate.
And I can’t stay away from it.
I’ll wander out there with no real plan, just stand in the middle of it with my hands on my hips, staring at that bare ground like I can bring it back to life by sheer determination. Trying to look past what it is… and see what it could be.
Because in my mind? It’s already coming together.
I’m thinking a big southern magnolia to anchor everything—something steady, something that’ll still be standing long after I’m gone. A dogwood and a redbud for that early spring show that stops you in your tracks. Maybe a weeping cherry for a little softness… something that moves when the wind does.
Then come the layers—hydrangeas, azaleas, roses. The kind of yard that changes with the seasons, always giving you something new to look forward to.
And listen—let me tell you about one I know I’m bringing back: Carolina spicebush. Some folks call it Carolina allspice.
We had one in our yard in Wilmington, and I have missed that smell ever since.
Carolina spicebush is one of those plants that doesn’t just sit there looking pretty—it does something. Grows into this full, rounded shrub, about 6 to 12 feet tall, perfect for filling in those spaces and giving everything a little structure. Think privacy hedge! But the real magic is in the blooms—deep maroon, almost like little velvet pom-poms—and when the weather warms up, that scent starts drifting.
And I’m telling you… it’s something else.
Sweet and fruity—like apples with a hint of something tropical. The kind of smell that stops you in your tracks without you even realizing it. And if you crush a leaf between your fingers, you get this warm, spicy scent too—almost like something your grandma might’ve tucked into a drawer to keep her linens smelling good.
Best part? Carolina spicebush is tough. Doesn’t need to be babied. It’ll handle our North Carolina summers, a little drought, a little too much rain—it just keeps on going. Deer don’t bother it much, pests leave it alone, and come fall, it gives you one last show with those soft golden leaves.
And it belongs here. That’s what I love most.
It’s a native. It fits.
I can already picture it—stepping out back on a warm spring evening, that scent drifting through the air, everything finally growing in and filling out… the yard starting to feel like us again.
It may not look like much right now. But with time, a little love, and the right plants, it’s gonna be something special.
I cannot wait to get my hands in that dirt.
