Several alien invaders have insidiously established strongholds around our home, but Steve and I have been attacking them on several fronts. Here's a report from the fighting front.
Twenty years ago when I noticed how much the birds like the red berries on the pretty bush by the bridge, I should have been suspicious. Now we are surrounded by bushes, blocking our view of the woods. This spring we launched a full scale attack. While there have been skirmishes elsewhere, the main battles have been along the stream bed and the meadow edges.
Oh, your heavenly scent seduced me into leaving just one or two bushes. Then you show your true colors. If you cut the thorny bush down, it sends out suckers. Off with its head with a few drops of pure glyphosate on its neck. It likes to hang out with the honeysuckle, but our brush pile is now about 20 feet tall as we attack both invasive shrubs.
Sure, you call yourself a rose, but I call you dead. Once upon a time, I had a pretty native pink rose growing here; what did you do with her?
Just search my blog with this term to find out how long I've been battling this alien. Every time I think I have won, I find you hiding among the canes of the multiflora roses, or under a large mayapple. And you are mutating into ever shorter plants all the better to hide from me. But I have trained my eyes to find you, even to the point of missing the morels.
I won't even mention the English ivy that is trying to creep into the woods, or the ajuga romping along the stream edge, or the dandelions, or the red osier or poison ivy. And how did lily of the valley get in the woods?
Please send care packages!