By Jeremy D. Wells
Carter County Times
If there is one plant on this earth I hate more than any other, it’s the multiflora rose. These nasty invasives don’t give you the pretty flowers of our cultivated rose bushes – though they are relatives – or the tasty rosehips of sweetbrier rose.
What they do give you are thorns. Lots and lots of thorns growing in dense thickets that choke out native plants and prevent free use of your land. They also sprout back from the roots if cut down, and cuttings root just as readily as any other rose. So, if you aren’t careful, trying to cut them back can actually help them spread.
I’ve been fighting the multiflora rose on my property for the last couple of years. One large bush in my side pasture had started infringing on my blackberry bushes, and made it impossible to get near enough to the elderberry trees to harvest any of their fruit. I’ve been cutting it back, beginning at the edges and being sure to pull any cut branches free, or at least prop them up on the edge of the fence so they can’t touch the ground and root.
Over the same period of time another bush grew so large that I had to create a new path to access the woods behind the house. That one, however, was in the open, so I had an idea. When we replaced the kids swing set, and took down the dry-rotted wood of the old one, I dragged all of that old wood to the back edge of the mowed lawn. Then I piled it onto the large briar patch, put some corrugated cardboard and old newspapers at the base, and stuck a match to the lot.
That fire was massive, and I watched it closely to make sure it didn’t get away from me. Even that wasn’t enough to completely take out this particular rose bush, though. Since then, I’ve continued to pile boxes up and burn them there, instead of in our burn barrel, to slowly whittle away at the pernicious invasive, as well as other smaller rose bushes that I want to get rid of.
And I believe it’s making a difference.
Still, this plant is tough. This spring I’ve noticed new shoots coming up from beneath the edges of blackened bits of charred rose bush stems I thought were good and dead.
It fights back too. Despite taking extreme care, I’ve lost more blood than I care to admit to the wicked thorns. (Usually while trying to cut them back with garden shears so the kids can have a safe path through the woods and often, ironically, shortly after warning them to be careful of the sharp stickers.)
My hope is to cut them back enough that I can establish an orchard of native fruit trees in the open areas, and berry brambles along the fence rows. It’s something I won’t be able to enjoy until years down the line, if ever. But hopefully my kids and someday grandkids will be able to enjoy the benefits of my labor. So, despite the blisters and bloodshed, I suppose I’ll keep cutting, and pulling, and burning.
Or maybe I’ll just go get a goat.
Contact the writer at editor@cartercountytimes.com
