SOTC 13/365

The bane of my summer, and yet, so intricately lovely to look at.

297/365

The weeding continues...

After my massive post the other day on all things dandelion, a friend texted me with a potential solution. She stated that I just had to get the Fiskars telescopic weed puller at Canadian Tire (especially as they were currently on sale).

So I did.

The mechanism is simple: plunge metal claws into the earth, and as  you pull it back out of the ground, it brings the weed with it, root and all.

Previously, the system was dig, pop, pull, toss.
Now, that has changed to stab, lean, pull, eject.

Does it get the whole root? Not usually.
Does it get more root than I was getting with my trowel? OH, yes!
Does it still leave holes? Yes.
Are they smaller holes than before? YES.
Does it save my hands and my back? Yes.
Does it uproot double the number of dandelions in half the time? YES.

So, is it a perfect system? No. Though, when it comes to dandelions, I'm starting to think such a thing doesn't exist. Still, it's a better system than what I was previously doing. And as I start to run into more and more people who have uncontrollable dandelions in their yard--where last year there were none--I'm starting to think this might be the most feasible option this summer.

How many weeds could a weed puller pull...

Getting to the Root of Things OR 294/365

Though overcast and breezy, it was nevertheless warm outside today, so I decided to continue tackling the weeds in my back yard that are threatening to overtake it. It is a process in lawn care and home maintenance that I am learning the hard way this year.

I am digging out dandelions one by one with a trowel, because I cannot think of a more effective solution at this point that is not going to cost me the earth. Music makes any work more enjoyable, so I plugged in my portable stereo outside and got to it.

What a process.

There seem to be three types of dandelion clusters in my yard: the brown, dead and wilted ones that I covered in weed killer earlier this week; the bright yellow ones that I missed; and the green, leafy, yet-to-be ones that are trying camouflage with the grass. I went around unearthing all three kinds in a pretty even ratio. The live ones are the ones that are most obvious, and will repopulate if I don't get them. The sprouting ones will take their place if they aren't tackled. And the dead ones--you'd think I wouldn't have to worry about them. But, while some withered and died nicely, others went down with a fight. In the stress of knowing their end was near, they went from yellow to fluffy, and are threatening to start this whole mess over again for next year if I don't dig them out.

Good grief.

My process is imperfect. I cannot get my trowel deep enough to pull the weeds and bring the entire root with me. I managed to get ONE dandelion cluster with its entire root. And it was only satisfying for a moment before I realized the cluster had two main roots, and the other one had broken off like all the others. ...Do you see how long that root is?! I am generally pulling these dandelions with 1/3 the amount of root--if that. Then I cover the hole with dirt and sprinkle over it with lawn seed, in the hopes of growing enough new grass overtop to choke out future weeds. But if I'm leaving that length of root behind, am I even doing any good? Visually, on the surface, it looks better. But only time will tell how well I've actually taken care of what's underneath. Some of those roots are really thick.

My friend, also into gardening, posts Garden Lessons on her blog, as a result of the experiences she and her mother have on their community vegetable garden plot. Now I get how she manages to formulate such rich blog material. From spending hours on her knees with a trowel, that's how.* I had a lot of thinking time as I dug holes today. Which was actually not so bad, because a) I'm an introvert, and b) I've had a couple of brain-heavy weeks worth mulling over. But in and amongst my mental processing, I also found myself thinking metaphorically of roots.

It is often said that when you are trying to get rid of something, or change something, you need to get to the root of the issue--the root cause of what's going on. In my line of work, we often talk about this in regards to children's behaviour. It's not enough to give a sticker for a good job, or tell a child what he/she needs to be doing. You need to find the source of the behaviour: what is motivating that child to communicate this way? Only when you figure that out can you start to provide the right environment for behavioural change.

A few of my closest friends are dietitians. They talk about weight management the same way. It's not enough to just jump on a treadmill or eat less. You need to find out the source of the weight gain: what are the physiological, psychological, or emotional underpinnings of the way a person takes in food and lives actively (or doesn't)? Only when you figure that out can you provide the patient with a game plan to improve their health and weight.

Spiritually, we talk about getting to the root of sin. It's not enough for someone who's into porn to have a password put onto his computer, or for an alcoholic to simply get rid of all the liquor in the house. Unless you look at the underlying wound or spiritual lies driving those behaviours (and then submit those to Jesus), he/she is likely to fall into old patterns.

Get to the root. Deal with the root. Remove the root.

So... dandelions. I am not getting to the root of them. I sort of am--I'm doing better than just ripping the flowers out by the stems. But I'm still breaking the root far from the bottom. ....Is that enough? Is it enough to sever the root, or do I need to pull it out of the earth entirely to be successful? I just want to know, are my efforts worth it? Are these f*ing dandelions going to grow back?!

After three hours, I set down my trowel. I am no where close to being done, but I am done for today. My hands sting. My back aches. My skin is gritty with dirt. I'd like to spend some time reading in my hammock. I feel like I worked hard and deserve it. Simultaneously, I look at the state of my yard, and feel like I deserve nothing 'till every last dandelion is gone. But I don't beat myself up too much. I know I let my yard get like this. It is going to take a while to clean it up. And then the poor lawn has to heal. ...I also remind myself of what the lawn looked like two days ago, and figure my efforts can't be entirely in vain.

Getting to the root of an issue is actually fairly simple compared to the process of change that must follow. That's what takes the time and energy. And depending on how deep those roots go determines the magnitude of effort that must go into restoring what was damaged, whether that's our body, our soul, or our back yard.

I'm doing the best I can.


Also on the plus side, as I made my way to the hammock, I glanced over into the garden and noticed... the spinach has popped up. Clearly, I'm tending some things properly.









* With some wise words, even, on weeds and roots.

I'm Sure There's a Metaphor in This Somewhere OR 292/365

Speckled. Last week, that described the array of dandelions in my back yard. Speckled. So, I went to Rona and purchased weed killer, and dutifully attacked the majority of culprits with three spray-bottles full of the stuff (about 2 1/2L altogether). Just as the bottle advertised, the leaves started to shrivel and turn brown where I had sprayed.

So when I glanced out the window as I was preparing brunch for myself today, I was taken aback at the state of my yard. Speckled had been replaced with riddled.

SERIOUSLY?!

I didn't really want to go outside today. Today was supposed to be a purely lazy Saturday. But it was not long after brunch that I found myself in my pyjamas and gardening gloves, manually removing dandelion masses from my yard. To look at the yard, one would think my effort was minimal, futile, or both.

I missed the boat as far as spring lawn care goes--aeration, fertilization, etc. I know I could have prevented much weed growth had I maximized the health of my lawn's grass production in the first place. I had already realized the consequences of my [mis]-actions as I was standing in the seasonal aisle determining which brand of weed-killer and which brand of lawn-seed to buy. Nevertheless, I thought I had already witnessed the dandelion "explosion", and I know I underestimated the manual labour involved.

First, I looked at the 750ml spray bottle I had used previously, and thought, "screw that." Carefully adhering to the concentrate-to-water ratio, I filled up my watering can instead with four litres of the stuff and outright showered it over the new dandelions. I did that three times to cover the majority of the yard.

Then, with my trowel, I decided to deal with some of the weakened dandelion plants I had sprayed earlier in the week. I dug the trowel deep into the earth. Lifting the dandelion cluster then produced a "pop" sound as the root broke somewhere under the dirt.* I pulled the dirt/grass/weed clump out of the earth, shook off the excess dirt, then tossed the weed into a pile I was starting in the driveway. Dig, pop, pull, toss; repeat.

I knew I would not have the energy or ambition to attack the whole yard today. As it was, I dug up roughly twenty dandelion clusters from the earth. My lawn looks like a disaster. Green grass covered in yellow dandelions, dead brown weed clusters, and now twenty small holes gouged out of the section of lawn closest to the house. I sprinkled grass seed over each hole, and can only hope that new grass will grow there in enough abundance to choke out any new weeds that try to take over its place.

I think I'm a little bit screwed. But nevertheless, I think I might try to attack a dozen clusters or so each [sunny] day till they're gone. I grew up with pristine green lawns. This was never supposed to be my back yard.

On the plus side, the ants in the hill that I infused with Raid last week have been successfully exterminated.... that's gotta count for something, right?

* That's right--I didn't manage to get the full root from a single dandelion plant. Ask how impressed that makes me.

289/365

Die, dandelion.

And all your little friends, too.