The battle continues.

I didn’t write a post last week as I had missed Sunday and Monday for the holiday.  By Tuesday I was well beyond thinking about blog posts but I wanted to catch you up on one of my projects ~ the removal of the gigantic rhododendron. 

This bush, which, as you may recall, housed many a bird, bunny and cat over the years had just gotten way, way too big.  It is in a part of the yard that isn’t used much, sure, but it had been taking over that part for too long and now spanned about 25-feet across, and maybe 12-feet high.   When we were working on cleaning up the tree that fell in the storm I wanted to see how difficult it would be to snip off a branch ~ I was able to walk right into this bush, standing up and just moving branches away as I moved to the center.  That’s crazy.  We’ve talked about taking it out for the last couple of years but it wasn’t a priority.  This year was the show close, however, and after the tree fell, which changed the light and the feel of the driveway, this was the time for the boot for the rhododendron.

Last week I began cutting back the branches, working my way around and around.  Almost like I was trimming the monster instead of trying to get closer to its center root system, I snipped and pulled, snipped and pulled, taking away wheelbarrow load after load, I  snipped off branches, bigger and bigger, around and around.  I committed to working every day for at least an hour, even if it were rainy, and soon I was left with shoots, some runners, circling the big “core” of the plant. (Yes, this is about the time I had to enlist the services of my trusted assistant, hubs, to manage the big, fat, well-rooted branches) Big, branches, more than I could handle with the loppers, stood solid, taller than I and ready to remain steadfast.  The undergrowth that remained, a LOT of the runners, had been freed and feeling sunshine for the first time, the leaves turned bright and healthy, not knowing the fate that lay ahead.  Oh, raise your faces to the sun now, for in another day or so, you will be but kindling for the next big bonfire.

Funny thing about this bush is there were no bird’s nests, no bunnies scurrying about, no cats or kittens.  Not one living thing. I had expected to feel some guilt, some Audobonian remorse, but there wasn’t a creature that stirred.  Even the bees that had circled the plant on my first night had dispersed.  I had been fully prepared to battle those bees, if needed, or at least, always had a clear path to get the heck out.

As I removed the runners, and there were many, children of the mother plant that would flourish if planted and cared for, I became hesitant to totally ditch this behemoth.  How long had it been here? Maybe sixty or seventy years.  Who was I to take it out?  I contemplated what to do, began thinking of the woods and the many dogwood trees that have suffered from blight or bug and have thinned to near non-existence.  I admired the ease of pulling big, healthy, rooted shoots of Mother Rhoda and decided to transplant a few, into the woods. 

I think I moved 7, but already one looks not so much inclined to root in a new spot.  I planted a couple near my bridge, and I really hope they “take”.  I’ll tend to them this fall, and keep them well watered over the next couple months.  I’ll pile oak leaves around and maybe even a fence in case the deer decide rhododendron leaves and buds are perfect for the digestion.  I’ll care for you, so you can flourish.  I’ll care for you, so you can grow, children of the monster.