It can’t be happening already. Just as the first signs of spring delight, the enemy is also in sight.
She comes dressed as brightly as any flower of the field; she makes the landscape take on a luster not seen since the last of the falling leaves. Along every newly plowed field, in road ditches and even dotting the prairie are the brilliant but destructive plants with rich green foliage and yellow flowers. My momentary thanks for a landscape that is no longer monotone, gives way to dismay, that this evil invasive plant is back again with such gusto.
At first they are manageable. I pull the wild mustard from swath alongside the driveway on my way down to the mailbox. After dumping those over the guardrail I come back and catch more as I go. Soon they are popping up all over. Stoop and pull every few feet; instead of beauty I see perversity. After the rain they pull out more easily but they grow faster, too. I’ve heard that they are edible, much like greens, but I have no taste for them. In the water garden near the house another yellow plant wants my attention.
At first they are manageable. I pull the wild mustard from swath alongside the driveway on my way down to the mailbox. After dumping those over the guardrail I come back and catch more as I go. Soon they are popping up all over. Stoop and pull every few feet; instead of beauty I see perversity. After the rain they pull out more easily but they grow faster, too. I’ve heard that they are edible, much like greens, but I have no taste for them. In the water garden near the house another yellow plant wants my attention.
On tall, skinny stalks shine daisy-like flowers—golden ragwort. This one is native and deserves his place in the moist fertile ground. Both are beautiful, I have to admit, but beauty is only petal deep.
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