Fighting nature

Even in an ordinary suburban house, even with a tiny yard and only three trees, I still have to fight nature now and then. It's nothing compared to the terrific battle fought by farmers (I know, because of my many, many relatives who literally worked 14-hour days, seven days a week, 12 months a year, as dairy farmers) -- yet still, there are battles to be fought.

Poison ivy, for example.

I was content to let it wander up the tree in the back yard. I didn't pay much attention to it.

In fact, I thought it looked sort of pretty. Until I did some yard work, and developed several itchy, oozy patches of irritation. Then I realized that, even if you try to leave it alone, it may attack. And it might attack the children who play under that tree.

Today I sprayed the roots and the leaves I could reach with poison ivy killer.

They look pretty, don't they, glistening with liquid poison?

Over the years we have battled many species of natural enemy- we have chased out of our homes opposums, squirrels, birds, bats, snakes, ants, feral cats, cockroaches, mice, rats, carpenter bees, and skunks (we called in exterminators for the last three). These battles took place in six homes, in three states, over many years. (The cockroaches, by the way, were in Princeton, New Jersey, the one home where we least expected them.)

In most cases I was sorry to have to chase away these creatures which, after all, bore us no enmity. They were just being themselves.

And the poison ivy is just being itself. It means no more harm than the flowers I have planted, which I water and tend and lovingly nurture. Poor thing, to be sprayed with chemical poisons while enjoying the summer along with the rest of us.

And I've been humming this song all day.