If I don’t like where the hostas are, I can move them. Because it’s, like, my house. Has been, for years now.
No more fretting about what to plant instead, and whether whatever-it-is will survive me and my not-so-green thumbs. If it doesn’t work out, God willing I’ll be here still next summer to try something else.
And that is why it’s a good thing that I tore my front garden all to bits today on a whim. It shows how I am growing as a person.