Testing their strength
In the hour between getting off work and twilight, I went out to the back 40* and pruned one of the compost bins (pics later, but it's a wire enclosure with a full pelt of ivy). I wanted to clean it a bit before I put leaves in.
Then I got distracted.
I clipped ivy from the cherry tree. I clipped bits off the neighbor's cedar that's in my yard, so my tarp-o-leaves wouldn't catch when I heaved it into the bin. I clipped more ivy from the cherry tree. I ripped ivy from the cherry tree. I YANKED such that a stem as big around as my thumb detached itself for some length, and remained, hanging like a jungle vine, attached by bits twenty feet up that were out of my reach. I looked at the hanging vine and though vaguely of rapunzel.
Suddenly it seemed fitting that Agony, the Princes' song from Into the Woods, was stuck in my head.
Agony!
Beyond power of speech,
When the one thing you want
Is the only thing out of your reach.
What's so so intriguing
Or half so fatiguing
As what's out of reach?
I abandoned the ivy to test the strength of the wisteria.
Everyone else who's been to my yard has said something about how much they love wisteria. It's a beautiful plant, and the way it twines around itself is fascinating. It's also rated in Washington as "Aggressive", which means that though it's not officially categorized as "Invasive: Will choke out native forests and create a great wisteria barrens through which none dare tread", it will eat your yard, house, and pets if given half a chance. Wisteria is the plant equivalent of giant, dangerous African animals: Charismatic Mega Flora. Everyone loves it, except for the people who have it eat or trample everything they hold dear.
At my place, it had already started in on the porch roof supports.
Had.
Great masses of wisteria now lie on the cement patio. The beast is still crawling through the lilac above it, and several more battles (and a ladder) are needed to get it down to a manageable size, but it is no longer an immediate danger to the patio roof.
I think I may just be able to beat the wisteria. It's reassuring to have a task at which I might win to take my mind off of the ivy. Wisteria is mighty, but Ivy is sneaky. Ivy comes up everywhere, where you least expect it, and I can't seem to shake the sneaking suspicion that it's actually higher on the food chain than I am.
*Square feet.
Then I got distracted.
I clipped ivy from the cherry tree. I clipped bits off the neighbor's cedar that's in my yard, so my tarp-o-leaves wouldn't catch when I heaved it into the bin. I clipped more ivy from the cherry tree. I ripped ivy from the cherry tree. I YANKED such that a stem as big around as my thumb detached itself for some length, and remained, hanging like a jungle vine, attached by bits twenty feet up that were out of my reach. I looked at the hanging vine and though vaguely of rapunzel.
Suddenly it seemed fitting that Agony, the Princes' song from Into the Woods, was stuck in my head.
Agony!
Beyond power of speech,
When the one thing you want
Is the only thing out of your reach.
What's so so intriguing
Or half so fatiguing
As what's out of reach?
I abandoned the ivy to test the strength of the wisteria.
Everyone else who's been to my yard has said something about how much they love wisteria. It's a beautiful plant, and the way it twines around itself is fascinating. It's also rated in Washington as "Aggressive", which means that though it's not officially categorized as "Invasive: Will choke out native forests and create a great wisteria barrens through which none dare tread", it will eat your yard, house, and pets if given half a chance. Wisteria is the plant equivalent of giant, dangerous African animals: Charismatic Mega Flora. Everyone loves it, except for the people who have it eat or trample everything they hold dear.
At my place, it had already started in on the porch roof supports.
Had.
Great masses of wisteria now lie on the cement patio. The beast is still crawling through the lilac above it, and several more battles (and a ladder) are needed to get it down to a manageable size, but it is no longer an immediate danger to the patio roof.
I think I may just be able to beat the wisteria. It's reassuring to have a task at which I might win to take my mind off of the ivy. Wisteria is mighty, but Ivy is sneaky. Ivy comes up everywhere, where you least expect it, and I can't seem to shake the sneaking suspicion that it's actually higher on the food chain than I am.
*Square feet.