by Curt Kovener
Despite alternating Spring and Late Winter temperatures, the wilderness has gone from winter slumber brown to glorious green seemingly within a week.
Warm late March temperatures and additional hours of sunlight (no thanks to the alleged Daylight Savings Time) got dormant plants in the growing mood.
And it seems it is the weeds and invasive plants that are the ones getting a greening and growing leg up on everything else. Wild mustard, wild garlic, wild violets are blooming…as you can see, things can get wild in the wilderness.
The multi-flora roses and autumn olive are greening up as well. Both are invasion plants promoted at an earlier time by Purdue University and the Indiana Department of Natural Resources.
Early in the 20th century, Purdue University was recommending to farmers that they plant the prickly multiflora roses as living fencerows to contain cattle and hogs rather than build wire fences to contain their livestock.
It sounded like a sound idea, except Purdue forgot to confer with the multi-flora roses about the importance of growing just in the fencerow. They don’t stay put and in my wilderness case, seemingly enjoy growing right at the edge of where I mow so they can reach our and “caress” the lawn maintenance person.
And, as late as the 1990’s DNR sold wildlife habitat packs of seedlings from the Vallonia Nursery containing redbud, dog wood, and among others, autumn olive, renowned as a bird attractant.
And indeed, they are. Birds love to eat the olive size fruit, defecate seeds wherever they feel the urge and from 10 seeds sprout 15 new bushes.
It is a constant battle to prune, cut, and spray the invasives.
With the spring greening comes mole activity. I am tremendously pleased to report that Emma the Great Pyrenees has become a Great White Hunter. Prys are not known for their hunting ability and prey instinct. Emma just notices the ground moving and has learned that with two digs of her big front feet she gets a new live action squeak toy to play with. For the mole, death by Pyrenees play is not rapid. And perhaps I should feel badly for the mole, until I think of the mole runs and molehills that make mowing more difficult than it should be for me.
And then I cheer on Emma to go get another.
There is another greening in the wilderness. It has no briars, is pleasantly invasive and wonderfully tasty: the pot of spearmint moved from the basement is almost ready for some trimming for an April mint julep.
