I think I've over watered the chives (pictured). It's going to be an usually hot week here in Tas and was getting a little ahead of myself. Having limited ability in the skilled gardener category I tend to over do things. This can be a good thing. When I'm on a weed pulling mission there's no stopping me. The chooks think it's marvellous. They stand beside me cheering me on as I launch myself under overgrown rose bushes, with my weeding weapons of mass dislodging. I recently met my match with a lone box thorn branch sneakily siding up beside an English box hedge hoping to go unnoticed. I thought it looked a bit unusual. I put on my chainmail gloves and went to it. I pulled it and pulled it. The chicken crowds gathered. It wouldn't budge. I pulled it with all my weight and it didn't even move, not even slightly. It's long rope of a stem held firm as its roots had securely lodged themselves under the old concrete border for protection. I contemplated wrapping it around myself and hurling myself across the courtyard but decided the audience had been entertained enough for one day. I'm later told that the only way to deal with this pest is to cut it down and poison the roots. I hate the idea of putting any poison anywhere near plants given particularly if left in my care they need all the support they can get. But this will be added to the list of jobs. As for the chives. Well I'll just step away from them for a while.
Wise move. I don't think Alice ate either of those mushrooms. With you completely on the weeding. Earl (one of our dogs) decided that it might be fun to chase a crazy chicken who had entered the area around the house that we have fenced off in order to retain the ownership of 'dogs' who would otherwise run most of the way to Launceston by the time we had noticed otherwise. Most of the chickens are wise to the beast that lives behind the gate but some of them want to test the waters. That's AOK by Earl right up to the point where they run into blackberry thickets to hide and Earl-the-wonder-dog (also known as "Earl-the-stupid") decides to launch himself after them. He did this when we were AWOL at TAFE and we came home to find a very sore, sorry for himself (and most poignantly 'minus a chook'!) dog with a ripped up neck, head, front legs and paws. I decided what any pet loving owner would do, to deforest all blackberry thickets inside the house fenceline. In so doing I managed to reignite my absolute rage at blackberries. Much like your boxthorn, blackberries fear no-one and have several back up defenses to keep themselves out of harms way. Over the years I have learned their ways and I emerged victorious (this year)! I know that they will be back with their wavy tendrils of spiny doom BUT so will I! I don't do poisons any more as they don't work with blackberries but that doesn't mean that I won't be there, secateurs clutched in fists, ready for them the moment that they emerge next spring! 'Viva la weed revolution!' Glad to see you are a comrade in arms.
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