I am resigned to turning myself into a faux sheep, and it’s all my fault. This story begins twenty-seven years ago and undoubtedly will continue as long as we live in our beloved home.
We dreamed of having a natural yard, a small prairie of native plants and a meadow. Moving into our new home, we had no funds left for a commercial landscaper. We needed a quick fix for our construction-ravaged, eroding front yard so we turned to the miracle plant of that time, crown vetch. That plant was highly recommended by highway departments, nurseries and horticulturalists all across the country.
Vetch was already growing on our cliff. We clambered down and brought up four small plants in hopes of stemming the erosion in our front yard.
Fast forward to the present. We have realized our dream and have a little blue stem prairie filled with native plants. But the vetch has also flourished and wants to take over the entire yard. Now all those plant experts are warning about the aggressive tendencies of crown vetch.
All my attempts to remove the vetch have failed. I’m not sure even a small nuclear device would budge the stuff. I have asked numerous people at UW Extension, landscapers and master gardeners how to tackle this problem. “Get sheep” was the best advice. They love to eat vetch, and the plant has to work so hard regrowing that it can’t spread.
Since I’m already caring for nine cats, the thought of adding sheep to the animals in our care is overwhelming. The only option is to pretend I am a sheep and keep tearing the stuff out of our prairie. That is exactly what I do every week. And I am trying to take this wise advice from a horticulturist. She said, ” Just readjust your emotional reaction to the plant”.
She’s right. It could be worse. Bees love vetch and it is beautiful. And it’s not kudzu.
