Bermuda Grass, the Teacher

Yes, you read correctly. This is a reflection on persistence, the long view.

I started down this path of thinking when I read Novella Carpenter's New Year's Resolutions. She aims to deal with both Bermuda grass and perennial buckwheat, having found that her animals won't eat either. She writes, "This spring, I’ll be hosting a big weed pulling party. I might even hire some local workers, but that last stand of weeds has to go!" I wish her the best, I really do.

When I moved into my house in 1986, here's what the front yard looked like:

It's perhaps not as clear as it might be, but behind and under the sad little bushes is a lawn of well established Bermuda grass.

Now, there is at least one positive thing to say about Bermuda grass. It is drought tolerant. It is also poison tolerant. It is probably nuclear fallout tolerant. I guess that's three positive things...

Anyway, despite these advantages, one of the first things I undertook after moving into the house was the removal of that Bermuda grass. Or, let me say, I began my relationship with the Bermuda grass. Here I am, looking fairly pleased with myself, thinking I am establishing dominion over my little section of California real estate.

After this step, I put in a front garden, with raised beds where I am able to take advantage of the best sunlight I have to grow a few vegetables every year.

However, whereas most plants have one way of propagating themselves--and some of the vegetables I want to grow depend on me, the hapless farmer, for help--the many-talented Bermuda grass has not one, not two, but three ways of spreading itself! Seeds, runners, and rhizomes. That's impressive.

The root systems of Bermuda grass can be a couple of yards below ground. For all I know, the ancient "mother root" from my former yard persists under my pretty front garden. Either that or the interlopers I still occasionally find are the result of roots travelling from my neighbors' yards to mine, under driveways and side walks. It's an absolute breeze for this plant.

Vigilance and constancy: these are what are required against a foe of this caliber. When it comes down to it, Bermuda grass is like a really bad habit, a bad penny. You know what I mean, perhaps. In the 12-step programs, there is a saying that gets repeated at every meeting: Keep Coming Back. It speaks to the regularity and fortitude that is required to deal with pernicious issues. Some troubles stay with us, over and over, coming back time and time again. So we must stay with them also, watching for encroachments, of seeds, runners, rhizomes or whatever it may be. And, sometimes practicing things in the garden is not such a bad way to build good new habits, after all.