It's a Jungle Out There

When I was down at the bridge the other day, I happened to notice how many plants were vying for a place in the sun. This is the ground that slopes down to the river.

Several of these are invasive plants, but apparently none more than others. Wild roses, wild grapes and several different trees are co-existing with poison ivy.

Crown vetch dominates the roadside, along with chicory.

My front yard is mostly chicory, so I am considering changing the name from Hickory Acres to Chicory Acres.

After last summer's drought, conditions seem to be favorable for the return of everyone's least favorite weed, the thistle.

They are everywhere here in the country. Soon, their seeds will be floating hither and yon. The flowers are soft and fragrant but the plant is all stickers that make the other invasive plants look benign.

Years ago, there was a big outbreak of these pasture spoilers. There was  a weevil that attacked them and destroyed the roots. I'm hoping for a recurrence of that scenario. However, so far, I see no weevil, hear no weevil and can only speak about the weevil.

Kindling Skirmishes

Making a kindling run every few days is necessary for my morning fire-starting.  What should be a peaceful, quiet job for me and the  hand pruner winds up being another battle with the Briar family.

The blackcaps, while thorny, do have  redeeming tasty berries.  It's the wild roses that delight in luring me into battle.

Hickory kindling is a favorite of mine.  The rose thickets grow quite fiercely under the hickory trees.  They catch the fallen branches, keeping them off the damp ground.  They seem to taunt me with those choice limbs, daring me to come and get them.

While the rose thorns can't penetrate my canvas chore coat, they can only be handled by the long-handled pruner.  My extra-thick leather palms on my fence gloves are no match for those vicious canes. Consequently, I give the meanies as much respect as I would an unfriendly feral cat.

The bushes grow in clumps every few feet. They grow to a height of four feet, then arch over to protect their ankles from people armed with pruners. They have all the characteristics that the conservationists extol. I hear that they were once promoted as a way to hold banks around ponds.  While it's true that cattle  give them a wide berth, the line between beneficial cover and invasive species is easily crossed.

You would think that  huge, strapping bushes would at least develop big hips like the rugosa roses do. Unlike me, they have tiny hips. These little fruits do have lots of vitamin C, so I suck on a mouthful while cutting a swath to the kindling.  The taste is sweet and tart but the seeds must be spat out, probably planting more of the savage growth. Birds love those bird bite-sized bright red berries.

The conservation agent told me that RoundUp is effective on the wild roses.  He had no idea of the scope of the rose invasion I  face.  The growth under the hickories is scant compared with elsewhere.  There are places where nothing else grows. It's a scene right out of Sleeping Beauty.

The sharp thorny canes always manage to fall on me when I cut them at the base with the pruners.  The sad thing is roses actually benefit from heavy pruning.

While I am admittedly able to prevail over a very small percentage of these malicious bullies, I am aware of the precedent:  Cane always does away with Able.