Tag Archives: forsythia

Cindy vs. The Backyard, 2010 — three steps forward, one back

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My battle with my backyard continues. In recent weekends I’ve cut back more of the forsythia. See:

Progress!
Progress!

I’ve chopped the bushes far to the right. At that point, there’s still another smaller bush or two, but most of the space is taken up by a rogue tree, which has multiple trunks of up to 3 inches in diameter.

The tree in the back corner has to go
The dread tree, hovering next to the deck

I need to upgrade to more significant chopping equipment. I may also need to watch out that I don’t take out utility wiring and maybe a neighbor’s window in the process of clearing that monster.

I was able to make such great strides thanks to the help of family. My brother-in-law again lent me a pickup to haul the stuff away, my parents allowed me to dump the cuttings on their land (under protest, in my dad’s case), and my brother Jude helped me load up the truck and trimmed small forsythia sprouts that were trying to gain traction.

The forsythia, as predicted, got right to work in regrowing.

Forsythia on the rebound
These forsythia were chopped down to bare stalks less than a foot high. They’re now leafy and over two feet tall.

The crownvetch making a comeback
The crownvetch has regrouped and is spreading. It’s joined by another plant that also is virulent, but whose name I don’t know.

And yet, despite the regrowth, it’s clear that I’m making strides. I keep reminding myself, “It’s a marathon, not a sprint.”

Cindy vs. The Backyard, 2010 — incredibly sweaty edition

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A beautiful sight

A beautiful sight

Today I continued chopping down forsythia and then hauled a bunch away. It was a great day for it, as long as you didn’t mind the strong sun, high heat, and humidity. There was a fairly consistent breeze, which helped.

Somehow I failed to apply sunscreen — I didn’t even think of it, which is entirely out of character. I wore 3/4 length sleeves, specifically so that the sun wouldn’t burn my shoulders, and yet somehow I didn’t think to apply sunscreen to the rest of my arms, nor to the not-insignificant space between my wide-necked collar and my hairline.

For some this wouldn’t be a big deal. For me, with my Irish/Polish ancestry and general allergy to sunlight, it’s a massive error. My neck is currently flamingo pink and only getting brighter. One summer, I went canoeing for a day without sunscreen and ended up with 2nd degree burns. This can’t possibly be that bad, but it’s certainly that stupid.

Anyway, at least I accomplished a lot. Three or so more forsythia chopped — one being the big one on the corner — plus some inroads into the very large forsythia on the far side of the driveway. And almost all the branches hauled away!

If you aren’t familiar with forsythia, the photo at the top of this post might be alarming. Surely I can’t have intended to cut away all the leaves and branches! But indeed I did, because forsythia likes nothing better than to grow back from scratch. Within a few weeks, those bare stalks will all have new growth, and by this time next summer those will be fully fleshed out shrubs. Plus, the pretty yellow flowers in the spring grow only on new growth, so the more I cut them back, the prettier they are the next year. It’s a weird little (not little) plant.

Cut shrubs on the left, uncut on the right -- much left to do

Cut shrubs on the left, uncut on the right -- much left to do

The mother of all forsythia, on the far side of the driveway

The mother of all forsythia, on the far side of the driveway

I’ll tackle that one last.

Black raspberries!

Black raspberries!

My reward for working in the yard: black raspberries growing in a corner of the yard. More will be coming ripe in the next few days. Now that I can get to them, I’ll be able to eat them before the birds do for once.

Sure, that looks safe, no problem

Sure, that looks safe, no problem

My brother-in-law lent me his truck for the afternoon, and I was able to cram all the forsythia I’ve cut so far into the truckbed. I did have to tie it down with a tarp, and I confess I was not entirely sure that everything wouldn’t go flying when I started driving this up Route 8 to my parents’ land. I spotted a classic Mustang following me for a few miles — out for a showing at Cruisapalooza no doubt, or maybe just for a sunny summer jaunt — and I noted how far back he stayed, wisely keeping a wary out for flying tarps and springing bungees.

But the bungee cords held firm and nothing escaped. I tossed the branches in a field of goldenrod — let the forsythia battle a new plant this year! — and drove back home to guzzle water and shower off all the sweat and bits of twig and bugs.

It's glamorous work

It's glamorous work

It’ll take all week to regain the energy to go back for the next round, and from the looks of it I have three or four more two-day bouts yet to go. Next time I’ll remember the sunscreen of course, and if I can load the branches directly into the truck instead of staging them in a pile I’ll save some effort.

This hasn’t made me any more inclined to spend time landscaping or gardening my tiny plot of earth. But I do feel some accomplishment every time I look at where those bushes were and are no more. Small victories are still victories.

Cindy vs. The Backyard, 2010 edition

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This was my backyard last week:

My yard. Mine is an official sense, but you can see the plants have taken over.

My yard. Mine in an official sense, but you can see the plants have taken over.

That kind of pretty plant that has taken over my tiny yard is crownvetch. If you’ve driven along any PA state highway you’ve seen it. Crownvetch was named a beautification plant in Pennsylvania in 1982, and it’s planted along highways and anywhere there’s a risk of erosion. It’s incredibly prolific though, and apparently it’s good food for animals.

Even so, I would recommend that if you see any of it in your yard that you pull it out immediately, or within a few months it will suffocate every other plant in the vicinity. If you grew up on Pennsylvania before the 1990s, you might remember plants like Queen Anne’s lace growing along highways; those are gone, and we have crownvetch to thank.

One plant that crownvetch has no power over, though, is forsythia. Those are the bushes you see in early spring covered in lovely small yellow flowers. It grows at a rate of two feet or more a year, and my yard is bordered with it.

So for the last year or so, I’ve had a battle of the superplants in my back yard: Crownvetch vs. Forsythia, the Deathmatch!

I’m not much of a gardener. I’m not any kind of a gardener, when it comes down to it. I could very easily ignore my yard and let the crownvetch and forsythia and every other kind of plant/weed/critter grow there in peace. I get involved only because the gas and electrical company workers who are required to read the meter apparently don’t carry the proper tools — machetes, scythes, bowie knives — that would help them cross the 30 feet of weeds in my backyard that stand between them and my house meters. Lacking these tools, they just give up, and I get charged estimates for my use through the summer.

And that would be fine with me too, but the various utilities get cranky about too many estimates in a row. Rather than let them cut off my service, I find it prudent to cut down my weeds.

So! Last weekend I put in a few hours pulling and bagging crownvetch, and this weekend I did the same. Then I started chopping down forsythia. Forsythia is hard to bag up — the branches are woody and poke through even contractor grade bags — so I’m just piling it up and arranging to borrow my brother-in-law’s truck to haul it away. My dear friend Eileen has offered to take some of the refuse, and my mom said I could dump the rest on my parents’ property.

I’ve cut down about four forsythia so far and have roughly 12 or maybe 15 to go. Their branches root wherever they touch ground, so I have no idea how many of them I have. I cut the first few to a foot tall — fear not, they don’t mind it one bit; they’ll have regrown several feet of branches and leaves before the end of the 2010 growing season. I’ll cut the bushes along the back property line a little taller for a semblance of privacy (and because I know I’ll be tired by then).

Photo evidence of progress:

Hens & chicks, saved from the crownvetch

Hens & chicks, saved from the crownvetch. Wall still needs help.

Progress!

Progress!

The pile of cut forsythia isn't nearly as tall as the forsythia itself

The pile of cut forsythia isn't nearly as tall as the forsythia itself

Doesn't look so bad from above

Doesn't look so bad from above

Under the porch

Under the porch. Why would meter readers be afraid of venturing there?

The cats cautiously approve

The cats cautiously approve

Two weeks of nice, fifty weeks of terror

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Forsythia has Sprung!

Forsythia has Sprung!, originally uploaded by seeks2dream.

The forsythia in my yard have begun to bloom. They have pretty yellow blossoms that last for a long time, and they act as a clear signal that Spring is really here.

It’s good that they look pretty for a couple of weeks, because for the rest of the year they make my life hell. They are among the fastest growing shrubs around. The trick is to cut them all the way down to the ground, maybe four inches from the ground, shortly after their blooms have faded. They will then look horrible for a couple of weeks, but they grow like weeds and sprout green leaves all over. They look bushy and fetching then.

A couple of years I’ve managed this. Last year I did not get the branches cut back, so they just grew and grew and grew. The plants now sport branches that are 12 or so feet tall, all pointed in random directions. They line both sides of my narrow driveway, so pulling into the garage is like driving into the vine-covered Batcave. (The garage door opener increases the illusion, except that it’s ancient and makes a terrible and un-superhero-like racket.)

Cutting the branches in time wouldn’t be too big of a deal, but getting rid of the debris is very difficult. The branches are long and pointy, and they laugh when I try to put them in trashbags. Plus there are so many!

I found a flier on my porch the other day from someone who tends lawns and trims hedges. The flier was delightfully simple and low-tech, and it arrived just as I was starting to wonder how I’m going to manage the shrubberies this year. So I called and make an appointment for tomorrow for an estimate.

Imagine: I could have a nicely mown lawn and neatly trimmed plants around my house this summer. That’s a tremendously cheering thought. It makes the arrival of Spring even sweeter.