By Barbara Falconer Newhall

I did it. I pulled those bloody maroon snapdragons up by the roots. My front yard color scheme has been restored, and all is right with the world.

Was it OK to kill a perfectly healthy plant? I fretted over the question. But then it occurred to me — I pull up weeds all the time. I kill mosquitoes. I eat lamb chops, for heaven’s sake.

And so, the offending snaps are gone, my rock garden pleases the eye —  my eye — with its delicate pinks, lavenders, roses, creamy whites and modest yellows, all colors that get along with each other and wouldn’t think of screaming for attention across the front yard.

Now that the gloomy snapdragons are gone, there’s a nice hole  in the landscape all set to go, rich with loamy soil and fat earthworms. What shall I plant?

My son Peter emailed from far-off Minnesota yesterday that he loves snapdragons. Too late. I’d

already yanked those puppies out — fortunately — or I might have taken pity on the homely things, in which case I’d be looking at them for the rest of the summer.

Maybe I’ll put in some nice pink and yellow snaps in Peter’s honor.

Read about the blossoms’ fate.