My wife is a gardener and somewhat of a flower/plant expert. Well, "expert" when compared with me, anyway.
I have little knowledge and even less interest in all things botanical. When it comes to the greenery in our yard, I care only about the grass getting cut and potentially hazardous tree branches being trimmed.
The rest is Terry's domain.
Over the years, she has done the majority of weed pulling and flower tending, and she is a saint for it. The kids have gotten involved sometimes, and I'm out there whenever she needs a little extra muscle or simply cannot take bending over to pull out stray thistles and morning glory vines anymore.
We've spent considerable time in the flower beds this summer removing unwanted green things, some of which were quite obviously weeds even to a novice like me, and others of which I would have just assumed were desirable plants but in fact were also weeds.
An example of the latter is Japanese knotweed, a plant that has been growing freely in our backyard bed. It's the one in the photo at the top of today's post.
I thought it looked kind of nice, but do a little reading on Japanese knotweed and you'll find it to be the very definition of "invasive."
For one thing, it's roots run deep and strong. We're talking roots that go down 30 feet or more. To the point that they can break through concrete, choke out native plants, and do a heck of a number on backyard ecosystems.
You can pull it up – and we did – but it's almost certainly going to come back in time.
I only learned all of his about Japanese knotweed from my daughter Elissa, who gave us the details about the demon plant infesting our backyard after I identified it using the highly useful Google Lens app.
We removed enough Japanese knotweed to make the backyard look nice for my daughter Chloe's baby shower this Saturday. We will, however, inevitably have to deal with it again, and soon.
This is one reason I can't stand pulling weeds. It's a never-ending job, and it seldom feels like you're really getting anywhere.
On the other hand, I do have some appreciation for the beautiful flowers Terry has planted around our yard. They look nice, but I never know what each one is called.
I can point out marigolds and black-eyed Susans when I see them, but beyond that, I tend to be lost.
That's why I made up a fake/generic name for any plant or flower I can't identify. One time Terry saw a plant she wasn't sure about, so I confidently told her, "Oh, those are Jupiter Polkas."
She looked at me strangely, as this would have been the first time I've ever known the name of a plant she didn't. After a half-second of bewilderment, though, she realized I was just making stuff up.
Which is what I do 99% of the time. I seldom really know what I'm doing or what's going on, so I just make stuff up. You would be shocked how well this approach to life works.
In fact, let that be your takeaway from today's post: If someone asks you to identify a plant, flower, shrub or tree, just tell them it's a Jupiter Polka. And say it with conviction.
If it's not Terry you're talking to, they'll be so impressed, trust me.
