Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Wisteria Victorious Part I

This blog was written 6 years ago, at the beginning of a great darkness. I share this now because the story didn't end 6 years ago, the final installment occurred today. Stay tuned for the next installment!

The first time I saw our home, I fell in love with the 100 year old Victorian. My romantic heart soared thinking about the sweeping staircase, multiple fireplaces and large front porch. Adding to the ambience was a magnificent wisteria vine which elegantly served as a natural curtain against both the morning sun and nosy neighbors. Instantly, I began imagining myself sitting in its shade sipping ice tea on a summer afternoon. We quickly made a bid on the house and soon it was ours.

However, my shady refuge was never to be. Before the ink dried on the contract my husband chopped down the wisteria vine. His pragmatic self had convinced my romantic self that an overgrown vine was neither esthetically pleasing nor practical for our new home. He correctly argued that the vines were in reality an ant super highway and the quickest way to a rotten porch. So I resolved myself to one less romantic ideal and sadly agreed to its sacrifice.

    Mistakenly, we thought a fierce pruning would be enough. However, the vine kept coming back. Its tendrils continued to grow. Almost overnight new growth appeared and spread across the flower bed. Hoping to encourage the vine remnants to rot, we poured five pounds of rock salt on it. Some of the root did rot away, and at first, there seemed to be no more new growth. As we prepared for our first winter, we thought we had seen the last of the wisteria. When spring came, I was excited to see my flowers returning from the winter's rest. Crocuses, day lilies, and hosta poked their heads out of the earth. And the wisteria peered out as well, waving its green and red foliage in the spring breeze never imagining it hadn't been invited to the party.

    In the end we tried many things to stop the vine from growing: weed killer, more chopping, and lots of pruning. Yet, still the wisteria returned. I soon found myself becoming sympathetic to this stubborn vine. The wisteria became a stubborn foe, refusing to surrender. Like Wile E. Coyote trying to catch the roadrunner, my husband would research and plan his next attack. This spring I thought he had finally found the way to the wisteria's demise. A friend offered part of his "stash" of extreme weed killer. This stuff had been in Tom's basement for years and was the kind that no longer could be purchased legally. He was almost giddy as we drove home, he could smell victory. I fussed about the welfare of my other plants. He said their sacrifice would be for a worthy cause. With a vengeance, he doused the roots with the contraband spray.

    A month later, I took stock of the damage in my flower bed. Several of my precious plants had indeed sacrificed their lives for this final battle. With great sadness I pulled up two azaleas, a gift from a friend. Two day lilies from a dear friend's yard were brown and dried up. As I pulled out the last dead plant, I did a double take. In the midst of all the devastation, the wisteria lived!

    Enough was enough I decided I couldn't risk the innocent death of any more plants. If we couldn't kill it, then I'd control it. I decided a trellis would do the trick. The "wild" vine would be contained away from the porch and look very pretty in the spring. I purchased an arched trellis from a catalog. With great anticipation, I looked forward to the spring and purple cascades of wisteria blossoms gracefully careening down the trellis.

    One week later, the vine demonstrated without any further doubt its true indestructibility. A pick-up truck ran into our front porch causing the entire porch roof collapsed. We were all shaken but safe. In the chaos of all the emergency workers, I surveyed the damage. The entire roof had fallen down; aluminum siding was hanging from the front of the house where the roof had once been. The porch floor, pushed off its foundation by six feet now leaned against our neighbor's house. My gaze suddenly stopped on the arched trellis still standing in front of the fallen porch green leaves waving at me. The wisteria had prevailed once again.

    The wisteria is victorious!