Weed Whacking Wonder

 Six months gone.

Fuchsias in their glory, Summer 2023

In mid-March I left Washington. I pulled the two hanging pots of fuchsias that I had been trying to nurse through the Western Washington winter out of the basement refuge. The fuchsias were putting on green growth and throwing hints of flamboyant bloom propagation in the daylight basement, next to the west-facing glass paneled French doors. March is known to be a cruel month, offering some rays of warmth and lengthening light, only to be suckered into a cruel return of freezes and possible late snow. 

Hanging fuchsia in WA warmth

March is no time to throw the tropical fuchsias into the open air. But I had no choice, they'd die for certain without water in my absence. I placed their pots outside and hoped for the best as I locked the gate behind me and headed south for Texas.

Day 2 on the road, I was stymied by a heavy spring snow storm that closed I-80 across my chosen route in Wyoming. I detoured west to Utah, down through Salt Lake City and then back east over I-70 to my reserved room in Colorado Springs. It was beating with 17-and-a-half hours on wet and snowy roads. 

My fuchsias also took a beating. No snow, but nights below freezing back home. Alas, it was their death.

Before and After

Meanwhile, in my six month absence, spring came to The Pilchuck, grasses, black berry canes and tall grasses grew unabated throughout the pleasant summer months. Upon my return at the end of August, I recoiled at the sight of what the place looked like at after I'd left in in God's hands. 

Oh lord. It was a mess.

August 31, 2024 Overgrown front of my house.

August 31, 2024. View from my front porch.

August 31, 2024. Wild weeds greet my return.

One of the first orders of business was a visit to Arlington Hardware. I looked over my options and armaments to battle the wild weeds that were overrunning the place.

I selected a Stihl line trimmer with an optional blade attachment. I marshalled my forces against the green menace, ripped the start cord and waded into battle against stickers and seedy weedies. I cleared the berry canes that were encroaching my 0.15 mile gravel driveway with the tri-blade attachment, rearmed myself with the line trimmer and beat back the massive weeds rushing the walk way ramp of my dwelling.

September 2024. The threat of tall weeds is cleared from front door ramp.

September 2024. It's not immaculate - but it is cut to a manageable manicured size.

It feels good to make a bit of progress with a power tool in one's hands. All of those weeds climbing up every side of my house are now cut back to the ground. I no longer fear green tendrils suffocating me inside my home while I sleep. 

Mischief managed. 

It is not immaculate and pristine horticulture, but it is progress. Plenty more to do. One day, I will get a tractor and a brush hog implement. Then I will be King of the Pilchuck with berry vines and weeds in submission.

The dream is alive and it is sweet.