Slightly Off the Grid

When I was a little kid, I used to wonder about the magical hedge of thorns that protected Sleeping Beauty for a hundred years. Now that I am a grownup, it doesn’t seem so magical. In fact, I wonder how, after an entire century, the thorny hedge hadn’t taken over the entire castle and Sleeping Beauty herself. I mean, what hedge stays hedge-shaped for a hundred years? Oh, right, it was magical.

There is nothing magical about the thorny growths I am battling where I live. Diabolical maybe, hearkening back to the terrible event in the Garden of Eden, but not magical. Thorns and thistles are part of the curse bestowed upon Adam: “Cursed is the ground because of you…It will produce thorns and thistles for you.” For the full curse, I refer you to Genesis 3: 14-19 which, upon a fresh read, has me wondering how come I am tackling the thorns and thistles when I also had to tackle childbirth? Daggone serpent.

I think of the serpent as I hack away near trees. Some of the grapevines are the width of boa constrictors but reach up to horror movie heights. If we cut the vines at the ground, they would look like Tarzan ropes and would be fun for kids to swing on, provided they aren’t poison ivy vines, which also grow as wide as a boa constrictor as they climb to the skies. My sister can attest to the danger of swinging on a poison ivy vine.

Tarzan ropes are not my immediate concern, though. My focus is on the pesky, scratchy low growing stuff that this childbirth survivor can tackle with a battery-powered hedge trimmer.

Here’s something I’ve learned after thirty years in our woods: anything forward of the tree line that isn’t mowed will sprout wild roses, wild raspberries, and grapevines. All together. In a tangled mess.

I love the smell of the wild roses in May. Their delicate white flowers are beautiful. That’s why they were planted along highways in the 1960’s to “Beautify America.” It turns out that they are invasive, and sixty years later our highway hugging property is loaded with them. And their thorns.

Raspberries love the edges of clearings. I love raspberries. So do the deer. The only reason I ever get any raspberries is because, so far, there have been enough for the deer and for me. But the raspberries have thorns and are interspersed with the roses which have thorns, so I have more thorns growing than anything else.

The grapes add another layer of interest to the hedge of thorns. Most of the grape vines appear to be male—they do not do us the honor of producing fruit. Their main purpose seems to be to provide a structure for the roses to climb on. If the grape vine is near a tree, however, it can climb and the roses climb with it and together they can completely take over the tree (and presumably Sleeping Beauty in her castle).

Just beyond the opportunistic hedge of thorny vines at the edge of our yard is a grove of holly trees, which I could admire from the house if they weren’t hidden behind the tangled mess. In late winter, when forest growth is still slumbering, I decide to tackle the thorny tangle and rescue the holly trees from obscurity.

Armed with my trusty battery powered hedge trimmer and an extra battery pack, I slay the vines a little bit each day. I have a two-battery limit on my own energy, so it works. Bit by bit, the hollies emerge from hiding. My husband says, “Hey, look at all the holly trees back there!”

I’m glad he has noticed, because some of the vines and rose trunks are too thick for my hedge trimmer and I must recruit him to hack with his chain saw. Together, he saws the larger trunks and I detangle the smaller bits until we have slain the demon hedge and created a tasty salad bar for the deer.

As I write, ten deer feast on the salad bar at the back of the yard. They were nowhere to be seen during hunting season, but now have emerged—pregnant and happy—to devour everything in sight. If I’m lucky, my “hedge-salad” will distract them from my garden plants, although I realize that a green twiglet of wild rose doesn’t compare to a tasty daylily blossom. If I’m lucky, the deer will enjoy the hedge salad enough to eat up the debris and save us the bother.

Most likely, the deer will move on to another snack bar while they await daylily and hosta season, and we will have to mow more yard, because, if we don’t, it will all grow back.

Just like magic.

Or a curse.