The speaker begins in the garden, listing the insects and weeds that seem to appear from nowhere: aphids, squash bug eggs, Japanese beetles, Virginia creeper choking a dogwood, sorrel in the onion rows. Then comes the turn. The mess inside her house, she says, happens "in just that way." Books, dresses, pictures, vases, teacups and notebooks are described with the same language of infestation, so that objects seem to breed, creep, loom and lurk on their own.
The speaker sounds weary and a little amused. She doesn't blame herself directly; the clutter just arrives, uninvited, like a garden problem that never ends. Words like "horrible," "dreadful" and "endless annoyance" show real irritation, while the comparison itself is slightly comic. The mood is wry and mildly uneasy, as if ordinary belongings have quietly taken over the house while she wasn't looking.