Last night we began our annual Garlic Mustard Eradication Campaign. In under an hour, three of us pulled enough garlic mustard to fill a 4x6 foot trailer; by the time we were done, the pungent garlicky smell had permeated my entire being, and my clothes were covered with stickers, prickers, and bits of leaf and dirt, not to mention the tick in my hair. Ticks love my hair. To a tick, my hair looks like home. I'm told a mild winter produces a bumper crop of ticks and other pests. I guess I'll have to start wearing a hat.
When I look at the amount of garlic mustard lining the area roadways, I realize that trying to eliminate the invasive weed would be as futile as trying to cut all the Kudzu in South Carolina. We pull some up this year and we'll get some more next year, but if we're diligent year after year, eventually maybe we'll clear a few spaces where the invasive weed will not be welcome. At least that's what we hope as we bend and grab and pull and toss and then stop to brush the sweat off our foreheads. The garlic mustard may continue its colonization of our county, but when it knocks on our door, we say "Thus far and no farther."
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