Cathie Shaffer: Winning, 1 weed at a time: 8/31/10

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August 31, 2010

By Katie Brandenburg The Independent The Daily Independent Tue Aug 31, 2010, 12:00 AM EDT

South Point — I have faced the perils of the jungle and won.

OK, it wasn’t the Amazon, or any other rain forest. It was my back yard.

In particular, it was a stretch of overgrown, weedy lawn that was left unattended for a bit too long, and became the Little Strip of Horror, to be known hereafter as LSH.

The LSH had grown deep and bushy enough to completely engulf my mini-patio, some stray canopy poles, a wrought iron umbrella stand and some miscellaneous fencing that has been propped against the house since spring.

Complicating things were morning glory vines gone nuclear. Five or six years ago, I deliberately planted morning glory seeds to climb a trellis at the front of my house.

Those vines are gone. But their descendants pop up in many and varied places, winding and strangling everything in their way.

Like the garden house. The orange outdoor electrical cord that supplies power for the radio that fuels our backyard cookouts.

And the wild, waving weeds themselves.

My first line of attack was with a four-tined potato fork that has been passed down through several generations of the family. I don’t know how it works for digging potatoes, since I haven’t planted any for years, but it’s great for ripping out the roots of that spreading grass that overtakes everything in its path.

Or at loosening the roots. I discovered fairly quickly that the LSH was fighting for its life, and the battle was intense.

I yanked and pulled and forked the thatch until I uncovered the umbrella stand.

With the help of a handy pair of scissors, I freed it from its prison and would have waved it over my head in triumph if the stupid thing didn’t weigh 10 pounds.

My spirits lifted as my potato fork hit something that dinged. Out came the canopy poles, flushing a million mosquitoes, a few crickets and a bunch of yucky beetles from their hideaway.

I worked until my hands ached and the mosquitoes drove me inside and no, I’m not done yet. But the Little Strip of Horrors has been whittled down to something manageable — like the Tiny Patch of Vile Vines.

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