I set my mission this morning to eradicate a population of Heracleum maximum, or phytotoxic cow parsnip, from the ditch up the way. It’s the broad-leaf in the foreground. Public property, but no one else is inclined to remove them.
I did a lot of tromping around and dug up that big pile of nastiness on the blue tarp. I didn’t get all of them, but I did get all the big plants and most of the small ones. The sun moved and the humidity was high and I tired, so I quit before complete eradication. No one stopped to ask what I was doing. I mulled over several quips if someone stopped to say something like, “Hey, lady, there’s no strawberries there.”
I deposited the toxic remains in the old well hole I’ve been using for two years now, and covered them with an old tarp and a much older ancient canvas tent. That tent was purchased in the early 1960s and I slept in it many times. Coleman, of course.
More fun is that at least one more species from the seven promised in my supermarket mesclun packet is germinating.