… she's not coming down 'til it all makes sense again…

Oh the beautiful purple blossoms…


Every time I see that little frog with leaf umbrella he charms me all over again… he’s so… what is he…smug? You would be too if your were the inventor of frog umbrellas.

There’s a rumor that goes around in our family, my mom perpetuates it, but she says that her Great Grandpap Vannauker was the original inventor of the umbrella, but some other dude scooped him on the patent. And so, didn’t we narrowly escaped the scenario in which, on a rainy day, you might have been advised to grab your VANNAUKER on the way out the door… Also, we Vannauker descendants narrowly escaped being multi-bajillionaires…

Poppy snores on my kneecap, unimpressed..

Yesterday I was ruing the day my dad gave me three wisteria starts… Why THREE? Why did I accept them? There’s a lesson in there, when someone hands you three of something, you don’t have to take them all. You can decline, or deflect, or demure.. something… Or you can share them. Wisteria is one of those things that just keeps on giving and giving and giving.. It’s like that Friendship Bread that goes around sometimes…  I planted one wisteria to climb the back porch pergola. That’s where I should’ve stopped. Oh sure it’s beautiful and lush and green and oh the gorgeous purple blossoms… Because it’s a challenge about three times a year, hacking it back away from the table and chairs, all those needy creepy vines, reaching, ever reaching, demanding attention, tickling, licking and curling around your arm when you’re trying to enjoy your corn on the cobs… Wisteria can be downright creepy.

Here’s why Dad was gifting me with wisteria, because he had to dig up his wisteria that was creeping all over his house and threatening to lift the roof and whatnot, he had to move his 40 miles from his house, literally, he moved it to the cottage at the lake! And probably because I said something off the cuff like, “Oh, wisteria is so pretty, I wish I had me some…”

YEsterday I wrastled with a wisteria that was allowed to grow unchecked for 10 years around the stump of the Tubby tree.  (Tubby was the dog who lived under the Tubby tree back when my mom was a girl). I didn’t know what to do with it when Dad gave it to me, so I planted it at the Tubby tree, and imagined a wisteria covered stump, oh wouldn’t that be adorable? No. It would not. Not for one minute was it ever adorable. It never flowered until it reached up into the pussy willow and started to strangle the pussy willow. THEN it flowered in triumph! It also grew into and over the horse fence, and tried to break my horse’s neck. Here’s me, standing at the dishpan, not a care in the world, just la dee da, washin’ dishes, jammin’ to Classical QED, and here’s my tiny horse, I just happen to glance up and notice her in the pasture, moving back and forth in a strange manner, along the fence, back and forth, back and forth… I’m used to seeing her scratch her big horsey butt on the fence, she’s nearly ruined whole sections with her little scratching shenanigans, but this was a different motion for some reason… Something told me to move fast. There she was, mincing around, with a woody wisteria branch about a half inch diameter, which means that thing was STRONG, wrapped around her neck, and she’s not quite panicked yet, she’s still exploring her predicament… but when a horse panics, they bolt, it happens so fast, and they’ll break their own neck or their leg. So you know, you untangle your horse, and you go back in the house and send your husband out to hack down the wisteria while you stand alone in the bathroom and cry… some situations… are trying… 

I’ve worked on it two different days now, a couple hours at a time, and I probably have two more days to go. Took about 20 sizeable branches out of the pussy willows, cut wisteria out of the pasture fence, the bushes, the compost bins, and the white picket fence. I’m documenting this, because it’s a huge process, and I don’t want to forget, and I want everyone to know, especially the wisteria, that even though I know it won’t be easy, and it may take several years, I WILL WIN. You hear that wisteria? I will triumph over you. I will vanquish you. Just ask the saw-grass that used to be where the pussy willows are now. That’s right, you can’t, because I vanquished it.

Oh, I should ask, before I obliterate, destroy, and dessimate it, does anyone want a wisteria start?



7 thoughts on “Oh the beautiful purple blossoms…

  1. Brilliant entry! My Amsterdam friend would be so jealous of your wisteria.

  2. I’ve always coveted having wisteria but now I am afraid….! It’s beautiful though….

    • It’s really pretty, and I haven’t given mine proper overhead trellis to really let it go crazy with the blooming yet, the one that I’m keeping.. But you really have to be willing to prune, A LOT.

  3. We goat a wisteria cutting several years ago. It rooted fine, then completely swamped this little arbor we had for it. This summer I built a much larger arbor/pergola for it (a pergolarbor if you will. Or maybe an Arborgola. Either way.) When I finished my much more massive pergolarbor thingy, the wisteria was a foot or two short of touching it yet. So I got me some heavy twine, tied it around the wisteria branches and kind of threaded it up & around the upper beams of the pergolarbor. Now the wisteria vines are starting to take over the new structure. I may have to go get medieval with the pruners this fall and scale things back a wee bit (4 or 5 feet ?!?) but I have high hopes for the potential gorgeousness of this endeavor.

    Your story scares the crap outta me! (But I DO have a chainsaw!)

And what about Naomi?

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