I committed murder this weekend. Three times.
First I ripped out a tree. It was a little slip of a thing that I got for arbor day a few years ago. I thought it'd give the pups a little spot of shade some day maybe, but really it was just in the way. And in 5 years it was going to be in the middle of our power lines. And it had bugs. So it had to die.
Then my little rose bush--you know the one I was gushing about just a week ago--well, don't worry, I didn't kill it. I just maimed it. Apparently rain, followed by sticky heat, followed by rain, followed by sticky heat, is just the kind of weather that powdery mildew prefers. The rose book says "remove affected foliage" and "spray with neem oil". I did both, but it hurt my heart something fierce to have to pull off my little forming rosebuds.
The third horticultural homicide was committed down at the Burrow garden. The pumpkins have been growing like mad, and since I couldn't bear to thin them over much when they were little (even a plant murderer must have some morals) I had to hack a few out in their prime. Below is a picture of the carnage (see uprooted pumpkins at lower right)--in the background you can see the rest of the Burrow garden shrinking in fear. ;)