At War With Weeds

As this coronavirus pandemic continues there have been many articles published about the medical, mental and culinary benefits of gardening.

The unidentified weed that is everywhere in
my garden in 2020. (Margo D. Beller)

No one talks about weeding.

At this time of year, after several heatwaves, there is usually a short spate of time when it is suddenly cooler and less humid, a time the media weathercasters invariably call "a taste of Fall." This is when I usually walk out my front door and around my property and see where the weeds are running rampant.

I write a lot about weeds, and that is because it is frustrating to deal with them year after year. It is a Sisyphusian battle because the types of weeds growing where I don't want them will continue to come back unless I do something drastic, and even then that will be only a short-term fix. I have one area where locust trees - actual trees - are growing from a long underground root (the parent plant is at the curb) and popping up under my andromeda shrubs surrounded by Sensitive ferns (that is their name, not their demeanor). I have neither the time, energy nor back strength to disrupt this area with shovel or backhoe so I must monitor it carefully and regularly use the lopper to cut the saplings to the ground and at least slow the growth.

This grassy weed gives me the satisfaction of
clearing a large area quickly, at least until it
grows back. (Margo D. Beller)

This year there have been other weeds that started popping up everywhere in profusion, perhaps because of the cooler, wetter spring. They are in all my garden plots, taking advantage of the deer netting, requiring me to make the effort to get behind or under to get at them. Lately, they've started looking like small trees. Worse, I can't even identify them. But to paraphrase what Justice Potter Stewart once said about obscenity, I know them when I see them and I've seen them off the paths I hike. If left unchecked they WILL become trees.

And then there is my balky back, which seizes up on me at this time of year because of the effort of battling weeds. 

Every year, I sit on my low bench, lean forward and pull. After a while I realize I can't sit up. This is when I usually stop and when I painfully rise this is when the spasms begin. A few weeks ago, when there was still light at 5 a.m., I worked in the area at the side of the house (where the andromeda shrubs are) and along the front garden plots (which are more difficult to get at because of the deer netting). After that I had to stop because of work but the rest of the week got hot and humid and then we were hit by Tropical Storm Isais, which brought down a lot of tree limbs. By the time I had collected and put them at the curb, my back was plenty sore. 

This area was cleared of grassy weeds but
I can only do so much. (Margo D. Beller)

That's how things stood until last week, when a friend sent me two of the exercises she does to relieve her back pain. It made a great and immediate difference. By the weekend, when I knew I'd have more than the short time between rising and work during the week, I girded for battle (or should I say "girdled"), warmed up my back and hips (something I should've been doing all along) and went out with my gloves, pail, pruner and my walking stick, which I found to be helpful in taking my weight as I stood up or bent forward to pull out the weeds, sparing my back.
Weeds are any plants that pop up in the wrong place. I've found some weeds pull out cleanly while others break at the top and you have to use both hands to pull the rest of it, with roots, out. Even then, there might be more below. Some weeds are grassy and can at least provide the satisfaction of clearing an entire area - for a time. Other weeds are vines. Ground ivy is a particular nemesis in my yard, as is the vine I can't identify that seems particularly fond of thorny wild rose bushes. However, lately I've also been seeing more wild strawberries, which provide smaller, drier versions of the stuff you get in the market. I can live with these, and the robins and other fruit-eating birds will enjoy those I don't choose to pick for my cereal.

Wild strawberries are a weed I tolerate. (Margo D. Beller)

I should also add even nonpoisonous weeds can have consequences. The plants have natural allies - the insects that use them for shelter. I was reminded of that when both my ankles suddenly felt as tho' they were on fire. I knew the cause - the flies referred to as "no-see-ums." I was not wearing ankle braces and the flies had free rein. I may have won the war but my ankles will now itch for days to come.

Ultimately I spent three hours, in several stages, to get around the areas I wanted to clear, pulling the weeds that were crowding the plants I want growing in the areas. As I worked I could hear chickadees, a Carolina wren, some jays and a catbird mewing. I was shielded from the sun by the trees as I worked, and there was a cooling breeze. Were it not for the physical effort of weeding it would've been an enjoyable time outside.

Everything I pulled is now atop the compost pile, covering the vegetable scraps feeding the worms. I have a feeling of accomplishment, and that should last at least until the next time I walk around the yard and see what has popped up in my absence.

Atop the compost pile. (Margo D. Beller)

At some point, as the days continue to get shorter, I will be cutting back the garden for its - and my - winter rest.  As usual at this time of year, I can't wait.