"A growed-up mess" was my mother's term when plants got out of hand. My overgrown azalea bed is worse than out of hand. Three springs ago I had pneumonia and skipped a year cutting out various vines. The past two springs were full of good intentions until the weather got unbearably hot.
An ancient rambling rose scrambles through other vegetation seeking light.
Among the unwanted vegetation is trumpet creeper, smilax vine, euonymous which has gone from shrub to vine, cherry laurel seedlings, and a privet bush I thought I had killed. The other day a blooming sprout peeked out. There is a nice boxwood under there somewhere.
A few late blooms linger on spiraea which competes with cherry laurel seedlings and smilax vines.
Seven sisters rose. Much thorny canes, short bloom.
An old-time sentimental thing. I didn't plant it.
When I pass by with pruners in hand, I give a few things a swipe or two. It will be a big project to get to the bottom and allow the desirables to grow while keeping the thugs at bay.