In the summer of 1968, my parents bought the farm where our family continues to live. The following spring we were surprised to see hundreds of antique daffodils bursting into bloom. They are an old variety and continue to perform each spring. In those early days on the farm, we saw no signs of English ivy on the property, but not so today.
Ivy is a pernicious invasive plant that does great harm to native plants as it spreads voraciously killing grasses, strangling shrubs and trees, and providing cover for snakes, vermin and insect pests. We never planted it anywhere in our ground, but obviously it arrived either by seed in the wind, or by a sprig falling off a passing truck on its way to the dump, or from a hidden sprout in the root of a plant we had purchased.
Each year, all year, we spend a large amount of time rooting it out, burning it or spraying it with herbicides, all of which activities constitute an endlessly demanding chore. We have found that the best way to proceed to eliminate the evil plant is to mow it, rake the clippings to be burned, and then immediately to spray the part that remains exposed, thereby allowing the herbicide to have direct access to the sap of the ivy, where it can translocate to the roots.
As to the trees that it attacks, by cutting the vines at the base, the leaders on the trunks and branches of the trees will die, slowly, but surely. Many well-intentioned gardeners do not realize the dastardly nature of ivy and are innocently supporting it by planting it in their yards.
Some garden centers, particularly those at big box stores, motivated by the bottom line, actually sell ivy to uninformed homeowners. Large nursery companies offer it in their annual spring catalogs. They are doing their unsuspecting customers a disservice in that regard.
Nandina is another invasive on our property, one for which I take full responsibility. It is a pretty plant, but it spreads rapidly, and, most importantly, its bright red berries are toxic to wildlife, especially to birds if they consume the fruit. Fortunately, our avian friends seem to have an innate understanding that the berries are harmful to them, and they avoid them.
Many years ago, before I came to comprehend the nature of invasive species, I brought a slip of a nandina plant home from the yard of a kind neighbor, who also did not realize the problems it could cause. At present, my Good Wife and I are continuing the battle to eradicate it from our yard.
One victory we seem to have achieved in the “Battle of the Invasives” is that over euonymus, or burning bush, the latter name coming from its bright, fiery color reminiscent of the burning bush Moses encountered when speaking with the Almighty. That invader came to our yard when my father ordered it from an out-of-state nursery, now long out of business. It made for an attractive shrub, but also one that spread over its neighbors with a vengeance.
In England, gardening is the national pastime. The gardeners I have visited there do not seem to be as bothered by invasives as we are in this country. The same holds true for their colleagues in Ireland. Gardeners in those countries nip the invasives in the bud, to use a trite, but appropriate, metaphor.
In this country, we need to follow their example. We can begin by encouraging businesses not to sell invasive species to unwitting customers—I once was one myself. Native plants deserve better from us, and in return they will give back abundantly for the efforts we make to rid our properties of their enemies.
