I’ve been on a mission over the last several years combatting bindweed. Bindweed is winning. In fact, I now know my enemy’s true name, Purple Bindweed. It has exploded in around my gardens this year thanks to ever present moisture and lower temperatures. I dig it out where I can but there are inaccessible regions, and it seems to know this.

Yesterday, I saw it growing in the sumacs and taking a stab at climbing into the mesquite along the back fence. There is no reasonable way to dig it up. So, I just look at the pretty purple flowers and pull down the vines when I can reach them. Of course, where it can be dug, I dig. But it has enviable roots if you’re a plant. They go deep and long. They come out rather nicely in soft soil, but I have a feeling if I leave even a scrap of root it will regenerate. That’s a moderately depressing feeling.

Oh well, it could be worse. It could be khaki weed which had no redeeming qualities. At least bindweed has pretty flowers and thornless vines. So, as a garden enemy goes I almost feel bad about rooting it out. Almost. I still try. Partly, I think because it has a tendency to cover things and when those things are inanimate objects like hoses and the like it can give the place a look of abandonment, as if no one lives here anymore. I do. So, I dig and pull and admire the pretty flowers. Thinking all the while, maybe you can have it when I’m gone.