A Thorny Problem
My gardening pet peeve is the branchy, bothersome, beastly bramble. I hate to be pruning something and come upon its thorny stem. Then, I have to follow it down to its base, which is almost always hidden in the middle of a scratchy bush. I cut it, knowing that it will grow back unless I uproot it and the bush I want to save at the same time. I pull it out and destroy half the bush as the bramble drags its thorns along the crying green leaves of the bush, defying me to pull it out.
I get half a dozen thorns imbedded in my hands and arms in my attempt to unseat the beastly little suckers. (I can't work with gloves; most are too big and then I have no idea what I'm doing with my hands.) The thorns seem to trigger an allergy because then I am half the day scratching at the itchy hills that are the spots where they scratched me and left a calling card. The problem then is disposal. Generally, I leave them with the branches I've pruned to dry in the sun. Then, they'll either be burnt or thrown in the middle of the field where the tractor will roll over them when the grass is mown.
For some strange reason, the bramble always decides to colonize an abandoned field, and those not abandoned. The first bad weed stretches its incipient sucker along the ground, after shooting up in the middle of a patch of wildflowers. Walking along the field, one comes upon it and knows it's there when the thorns reach out and wrap themselves around an ankle, usually painfully upon a summer ankle free of sock and pants. You look around and see that the nearest bramble bush is meters away. How did this shoot get here? That's because the birds have helped it.
In late August the brambles do us the only good service it does, though in its own self-interest. They produce blackberries. While they are a delight for berry lovers, me included, they are also a delight for birds. The problem is that when the blackberries have coursed through my system, seeds and all, they end up in a septic tank. When they course through the bird's system, they end up in a field or wherever the bird went to the bathroom. The seeds are pretty resistant, and, there we are! Instant bramble mix!
While I like to pick blackberries at the end of summer, I like to do it along the lanes, where the brambles grow on someone else's property. On my property they're a nuisance. Besides, they never grow blackberries in my garden, just those nasty little suckers that look like the nightmare plants in fantasy stories, waiting for me to come near and then grabbing me and drawing me into its thorny, scratchy, painful embrace, where it will devour me and spit out my bones. Not today, though, you monster. Today I'll take you apart with my pruning shears!
I get half a dozen thorns imbedded in my hands and arms in my attempt to unseat the beastly little suckers. (I can't work with gloves; most are too big and then I have no idea what I'm doing with my hands.) The thorns seem to trigger an allergy because then I am half the day scratching at the itchy hills that are the spots where they scratched me and left a calling card. The problem then is disposal. Generally, I leave them with the branches I've pruned to dry in the sun. Then, they'll either be burnt or thrown in the middle of the field where the tractor will roll over them when the grass is mown.
For some strange reason, the bramble always decides to colonize an abandoned field, and those not abandoned. The first bad weed stretches its incipient sucker along the ground, after shooting up in the middle of a patch of wildflowers. Walking along the field, one comes upon it and knows it's there when the thorns reach out and wrap themselves around an ankle, usually painfully upon a summer ankle free of sock and pants. You look around and see that the nearest bramble bush is meters away. How did this shoot get here? That's because the birds have helped it.
In late August the brambles do us the only good service it does, though in its own self-interest. They produce blackberries. While they are a delight for berry lovers, me included, they are also a delight for birds. The problem is that when the blackberries have coursed through my system, seeds and all, they end up in a septic tank. When they course through the bird's system, they end up in a field or wherever the bird went to the bathroom. The seeds are pretty resistant, and, there we are! Instant bramble mix!
While I like to pick blackberries at the end of summer, I like to do it along the lanes, where the brambles grow on someone else's property. On my property they're a nuisance. Besides, they never grow blackberries in my garden, just those nasty little suckers that look like the nightmare plants in fantasy stories, waiting for me to come near and then grabbing me and drawing me into its thorny, scratchy, painful embrace, where it will devour me and spit out my bones. Not today, though, you monster. Today I'll take you apart with my pruning shears!
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