Last months whole bobcat-digging–up-the-front yard-so-they-could–replace-old–water-line thing was the perfect excuse to re-work the front
Only trouble was that meant tackling the wild roses that have been growing unimpeded for about a decade.
I’ve written before about how much I LOVE my 'Caretta' rose, named for the town in WV where I dug up a shoot.
Its native habitat is the rocky shale of West Virginia highways and hollers, watered only by mountain run off after a rain and, at other times, either ignored or mowed down by the WV DOT.
In other words, it’s tough; it’s a survivor - and that makes it perfect for a yard like mine where plants have to thrive on benign neglect.
Our hellish hot summers, droughts and a gardener not prone to babying her plants made the ‘Caretta’ a perfect fit for me.
The fact that the plant blooms in three breathtaking shades of pink was just icing on the cake.
However, what I’ve discovered - although those pesky botanists at the Botanical Gardens refuse to confirm it - is that it’s also a mutant variety of a flowering, thorned kudzu intent on taking over the planet.
My appreciation of the lush, flowery, breath taking and car stopping show it puts on only ONCE a summer has been completely out weighed by the fact that it’s smothering out any other plant growing within a 10 mile radius – and since it’s so heavily thorned, it makes tending to said other plants nearly impossible.
Apparently there’s a difference I’ve never appreciated before between exuberant and wild ass, crazy, out of control – and Caretta crossed the line.
Trimming her back and imposing order hasn’t been easy: she’s headstrong and has been on her own for a long time.
The job has to be cut down into manageable pieces or it simply won’t work… but, it didn’t get that way overnight, it won’t go away over night either!
I WILL get there!
I am ‘bloody but unbowed’.
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