We have another rainy Sunday today, and I don't mind that. I like writing with the soft sound of falling rain outside an open window.
But last Sunday -- well, the gods smiled on Santa Cruz that day. They rolled back the clouds, brightened the sun, and brought the swimsuit temperatures back for a day or two -- in the middle of February. Blue skies, soft breezes -- what's not to like? It's a pity to stay indoors on a day like that.
So I didn't blog, but I did take on walk on the West Side. The West Side is Santa Cruz' little slice of idealized Americana. Big trees, quiet streets, pleasant houses of various ages and conditions -- no two of them very alike.
And oxalis. Lots and lots of bright yellow oxalis pes-caprae, aka Bermuda buttercup, buttercup oxalis, English weed, yellow sorrel, African wood-sorrel, sourgrass, and a dozen other names. Oxalis -- what everybody calls it in these parts -- is an invasive South African perennial that was brought to other countries as an ornamental plant.
If the climate is anything like South Africa's in its new home, oxalis jumps the fence -- literally -- and becomes part of the local ecosystem. And as far as climate is concerned, South Africa and California are twins separated at birth.
That's how oxalis came to be Santa Cruz' favorite weed -- or at least the most noticeable. It's bright and pretty and everywhere, whether you like it or not. Some do like it; others, not.
Oxalis pes-caprae is an attractive, clumpy plant with dappled, clover-shaped leaves and bright yellow flowers. It's soft to the touch, attractive, and inoffensive in every way. It blends in well with other flowers and adds a dash of color to green grass and foliage. Sometimes more than a dash.
And oxalis is fragile. The whole clump attaches to the ground by a single stem, which snaps off easily. So when you've had enough of the oxalis -- or more than enough -- it's quite easy to clear it down to ground level with your bare hands. Gone. Done. No more.
Until next year, when it comes back. Oxalis always comes back.
Sure, you can clear a whole yard of oxalis is about twenty minutes by the grab-and-snap method. But the only way to really ditch it permanently is to dig out each plant very carefully, leaving behind none of the the too-small-to-see-clearly oxalis bulbs. Not only is that a lot more work, it's almost impossible to get all the bulbs.
And most people kind of like oxalis; so they say, the hell with an orderly garden, and let oxalis come and visit for a few months. And the great thing about oxalis is that its beauty makes even a messy yard look like, just maybe, you meant it to look like that.
Not every West Sider welcomes oxalis' disorderly presence. These are people who like their garden "just so" and don't want unwanted visitors disrupting their carefully arranged botanical effect. They tend to have gardens that disdain spontaneity. Or are downright unnatural.
I knew a guy who hated oxalis so much that he carefully dug each oxalis plant out of his backyard as soon as it came up. It took years but he finally had an oxalis-free backyard. He was incredibly proud.
And it wasn't even really his backyard; he was a renter. But he was into having a controlled, "perfect" garden, and people who are into control hate our gorgeous gatecrasher. Oxalis is about the beauty that can come from letting go of control.
Oxalis is also a promise of renewal. It blossoms in the winter, when most flowering plants are dormant even here in Paradise (TM). At the Trescony Park community gardens, for example, most of the gardeners let their plots go fallow for the winter. And so oxalis steps in to fill the empty gardens and reminds us what spring will be like when the other flowers bloom.
Oxalis fills the neglected spaces of the West Side; the abandoned side yards, the anonymous strips of ground between fence and sidewalk or sidewalk and street. These spaces should be drab and mundane, but oxalis makes them beautiful.
What do we have to learn from oxalis? There's a Buddhist teaching story in here somewhere. We get our share of weeds here in Santa Cruz, and many of them the average homeowner will greet with a massive campaign of destruction. Blackberry, thistle, stinging nettle: they'll take over your yard just like oxalis, but they'll do it with spikes, thorns, and toxins. You've got to kill them, because if they take control you might never get it back.
But oxalis is no threat; we know can get rid of it any time we want to -- for a while, at least. And it's pretty. So mostly the oxalis stays: an uninvited guest, true, but one who only takes what isn't wanted and always offers presents in return.
10 comments:
Thank you for this perspective. I needed to read this on an otherwise really bad Monday.
Anon, glad I could help you make it through a Monday. Hope it improved.
I never new so much about what I have only ever known as sourgrass!
emikk, it's amazing what you can do with Google searches these days :-).
And as you may know it's called sourgrass because it has a slightly sour taste -- yes, you can eat it. But you don't want to eat a ton of it because it's rich in oxalic acid (hence oxalis) which can lead to kidney stones.
Y'know, sometimes I think I get absolutely _drunk_ on semi-useless knowledge.
It never lasts in my yard (Campbell) because my chickens love it. Last year I fenced off a 10x10 section, allowing the oxalis and clover to grow tall, then I unleashed 3 hens into the area. They had it mostly demolished by day's end.
Want to control oxalis, or for that matter just about any other weed in your yard? Just get a few hens :)
When I was little, younger, years and years ago, we called it "sour grass" and ate it. And when I got older, I called it 'dog piss grass.'
Anon, I have enough oxalis to keep your hens busy for a week. I might suggest a municipal chicken patrol of free-ranging chickens to control oxalis wherever it is; but Key West, has that, and I hear they wish they didn't.
POD, it never occurred to me before this that people could actually eat the stuff. Of course oxalis being what it is and where it is, how much assurance do you have that a dog _didn't_ piss on it?
Thanks to you both for writing in.
Hey Boomer, I've been in the same room with Ed "Big Daddy" Roth *and* the Beatnik Bandit (though not at the same time or even in the same city).
On another note, unrelated to your fine blog but something I thought you should see anyway:
FAMOUS BOOKSTORE OWNERS
#1 in a series.
==========
Henry Knox was responsible for bringing the 60 cannon the 300 miles from Fort
Ticonderoga to Boston during the Revolutionary War. He was the first Secretary
of War for the United States and responsible for getting Washington's troop's
across the Delaware. He was a bookstore owner in Boston (at the time of the
Boston Massacre), and married to a woman whose parents were devout English
loyalists. When the patriots drove the British out of Boston, in large part due
to the cannon Knox got from Toconderoga, her parents left Boston and she never
saw them again.
http://bit.ly/9QoR5P
Henry Knox (July 25, 1750 - October 25, 1806) was an American bookseller from
Boston who became the chief artillery officer of the Continental Army and later
the nation's first secretary of war.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Knox
--
Bruce T.
Bruce, if I ever wrote a book called "Great Geeks of American History," Henry Knox would be #1.
6'3, 300 pounds, famously big eater, military buff. He ordered books on military tactics for his bookshop and liked to talk to the British officers who came in about warfare. When Washington needed someone to design and build bunkers and battlements, Knox raised his hand. It was a military geek's dream come true.
There's a great story about him stopping for dinner at someone's house during the Ticonderoga operation, only to get word halfway through that the guns had broken through the ice; he ran out the door with a lambchop in his hand.
He was a geek, too, in that he was completely honest. When he was secretary of war he actually stationed troops to try to keep settlers out of territories preserved for the Indians by treaty. It was a losing battle; he resigned and went home, had a good life for a few years and died choking on a chicken bone.
I keep wondering, why no movies about this guy?
Well, if Hollywood ever did a bio-pic of Henry Knox they'd probably put Kevin Costner in the lead role instead of somebody more morphologically correct.
Great stories about Knox. Thanks for sharing them, Boomer.
--
Bruce T.
Post a Comment