Oh, hell.
All my earlier optimism about defeating the Black Swallow-wort this year evaporated when I saw this. This is the side of the hill where I haven’t done much digging and uprooting last year or the years before. Sure, the parts where I have been on the offensive are looking pretty good, but it’s so discouraging to see this army of twining vines on the brink of knotting together in the usual impenetrable mass. And it gets better.
Tiny nubbins of inconspicuous brown flowers are making evil little dots that think nobody will notice. You know what that means. Evil weed sex all over the place.
Eww.
Writing Every Day 