...confessing about how I invited the English ivy to come to my house, and have been spraying it for about ten years with brush killer. This comes under the heading of: 'Things my mom warned me about'. Though it is definitely not one of the usual items you would expect to see on that list. She said you think you want it, and hope it will grow, but when it does, you will wish you had not given it a toe-hold. Right again, Mom.
I think the most annoying part is how stuff grows up in it, and so many undesirables will 'volunteer', get out of control. Perhaps the actual ivy is not all that difficult to manage, but all those other things, little oak and pine trees, various and sundry, dozens of small trees hoping to be ignored. Things that will make you grind your teeth in the never-ending battle of keeping them pulled up and the ivy bed pristine. There are probably people who love it, and have big beds of it growing in places where nothing else will in dense shade, no other ground cover does well, and it is a boon to preventing erosion. But it is almost certain that those same people go out in the ivy bed, fearing creepy crawlies, cursing and swearing the whole time, pulling up all that unwanted stuff.
I've been out spraying trying to kill it. Except for that place near the drive way where I had an encounter with Mr. No Shoulders several weeks ago. I am very wary of that area, though I know the belly crawler could be miles away by now. And admit to actually casting a side-ways glance over into the ivy bed every time I drive in and out. But don't want to spray the industrial strength brush killer there, as that is the only place where the late blooming yellow daisies live. I would love for the ivy to be history, but not at the expense of the wild-flowers.
When I see people buying hanging baskets or little potted plants, talking about how much they love ivy and hope it will do well at their homes - I tell them my story: it turns into kudzu when you aren't looking.
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