Set Timer For 15 Minutes

 "Would you like to begin your day with bird chirping sounds?" This was my listening devices response to my directive to set a timer for fifteen minutes. Why yes, I really would like to begin every day with actual birds chirping I thought to myself. Of course, I would never divulge such personal information to my listening device, that would be just weird. But truth be told, what hasn't been weird about this year? Two days into summer break and clearly I'm still struggling for clarity. 

I thought about writing a blog for Father's Day that would go something like this: 

Interesting right? It even appeared as if I had captured one of those children's happily ever after movie endings!

That is until my daughter commented, "Uh oh, baby skunks!" Also there is one pesky little complication to my story, daddy skunks aren't at all involved with raising their kits. 

Now as it is, I happen to like skunks; but Helen's comment reminded me that my neighbor had recently complained that an emboldened skunk had denned up under his shed. In fact, he said that the critter had actually peeked into the shed while my neighbor was working in there. What else could possibly go wrong with my picture perfect Father's Day "tail" I wondered? 

Oh just stop it!

And so with that squatting fox and my brother's comment of, "No decency" I lost my will to write a Father's Day post.

I chose instead to commence with a therapy of sorts that I call Angry Gardening. I loaded up my kid's old red wagon with two kinds of saws, a hand trowel, pruners and my push lawnmower then set out to set a few things right. 

 

The culmination of my searching for clarity through my Angry Gardening therapy, turned out to be a gaping hole in my hedge and a brush pile of shrub honeysuckle. I love shrub honeysuckle; I love how tall it is, I love how it seems to grow in any location, I love it's density, it's fragrant pink or white flowers and how every winter its bark is stripped by deer and rodents. But most of all, I love how birds and bunnies alike hang out underneath it. 

I always stand back and look at what I have done after an impulsive gardening adventure. I get that from my father. He used to silently stare at completed projects while drinking a diet cola. Perhaps we even shared the same thoughts of, "What in heaven's name have I just done?" 

The shrubs I left standing in this hedge are rhododendron and lilac. I transplanted this trio of shrubs years ago in part to screen my view from utilities.  And like a true family of teenagers; lilac prefers alkaline soil, rhododendron prefers slightly acidic while bush honeysuckle likes acidic to mildly alkaline soil. Somehow, in spite of my poor planning, they had all grown into healthy large shrubs. 

My first memory of invasive species is the one of my friend Kathy admonishing my frugality. I had decided that wildflower seeds were too costly and so began filling my pockets with seeds that I found on our walks. "How do you know they aren't invasive?" she scrutinized. 

 My father had little use for anything in the yard that wasn't fiscus. My mother's gardens were tolerated if they were fenced in a geometric shape to allow for easy mowing. Trees and or shrubs were permitted along perimeters and only if the mower could fit easily around them. All of our trees were lollipopped so that they could be mowed under. Of course, lawns were not for walking or playing on, that's what sidewalks and parks were for.  

When Kathy mentioned invasive plants, I genuinely had no idea and no reason to not continue spreading seeds; I was after all, being a progressive thinker in light of my family tree.

Never the less, it would be years before I found myself standing in a perennial garden in Westminster requesting native plants for a shady dry site. The owner abandoned his sale by forcing the question, "Native to what!" In so many words he further expressed that he didn't understand what was with all of the people wanting native plants. If it wasn't for his friendly barefoot employee guiding me away with a promise of what she thought to be a native, I might have lectured Wayne all the way home in the car. Thank goodness for teachers working second jobs on their days off! 

Papaveraceae

The short answer to all of this is, that non-native plants take up space where a more valuable plant to that ecosystem might otherwise exist to the mutual benefit of the communities within it. Invasive plants are non-native plants that readily outcompete, reproduce and escape beyond their native range. Invasive plants ultimately create a decline in the biodiversity upon which we all depend.  Oh, and of course this extends to wildlife as well. (p.s. striped skunks are native to VT)

  

I attempted to quote for my purposes, numerous statements from Chittenden County Forester Ethan Tapper's discussion of the issue in his paper, "What's Wrong With Invasive Plants?"   Each time I quoted Forester Tapper however, I felt that in isolation his words lost their contextual impact. I implore you to read his two page paper in its entirety by clicking here.

Vermont Invasives: Gallery of Terrestrial Plants, displays forty nine invasive land plants in VT. 

I have identified on my acre of land, eight invasive plants featured in this gallery. Only the barberry has been completely removed. Though it seems that I have plenty more opportunities in which to seek clarity, I think that next time, I will begin by opening up my window to listen for actual. real, live, native, chirping birds - Norma Manning

Furthermore: 

Eastern Wild Turkeys are dependent on a varied habitat consisting of hardwood and mixed forests. In the 1800s, Vermont's wild turkeys were pushed to extinction due to extensive clearing of these forests and the spread of agricultural lands. They were first reintroduced in 1969 and fortunately have made a tremendous comeback. They are now widespread throughout the state. -Vermont Fish and Wildlife Department; Eastern Wild Turkey

Controlling Invasive Plants Using the Cut-Stump Method - Click here for directions