Confessions of a Tygh Valley Weed Wrangler

Still catching up her as the last snow of the season falls.   I am acclimating it seems, because I wished for this snow!  This, my third winter, was very mild and I found I missed the magical quality of snow, as someone who has not lived in it her entire life can say.

But to continue the catch up and give you the character of life here:  back to that first year.

Year ONE, in the rear-view-mirror:

Shortly after settling into my cute place on the lake, two events coincided:  my new landlords decided to sell the property, and the kids announced the coming of my first grand baby.  When invited to move closer, I naturally embraced the chance to love on a grandchild, and for a short time, that would mean living in an efficiency apartment connected to their house.  In the span of a few months, I'd repacked everything I'd just unpacked, and moved to join them in the high-desert and unpack again! I traded in my fancy water-proof Bogs boots for gardening boots and leather  gloves and away I went, downsizing yet again, this time to a 300 square feet. That's what grandmothers do...

Life in 300 Sq. feet

I moved in as millions converged a few miles down the road to watch the full-eclipse in 2017. It seemed  fortuitous, but man was it dry country. A water person at heart, I was consoled by nearby White River Falls and the Deschutes River, nine miles away. Within moments of opting for life in a desert clime, I hightailed it to the Falls for proof of being able to get a whiff of mist. I wasn't disappointed.

 

White River Falls

 

We got down to business of settling in and to give you a taste of the first phase of that endeavor, here's a  copy of an article I wrote for the Wasco County Master Gardner's Newsletter. 

Read it and weep.

Confessions of a Tygh Valley Weed Wrangler

Having served in the Peace Corps Africa for two-and-a-half years, before moving to Oregon in 2014, I thought it would prepare me well for living a more remote, less “Better Homes and Gardens” life-style – as was my preference.  And to some extent, that’s true: I actually got better phone and internet coverage in the wilds of Africa than I’ve had in either Cannon Beach or Tygh Valley!  That said, nothing prepared me for the sheer variety and ferocity of noxious weeds and grasses I encountered as the self-appointed Weed-Wrangler of our little piece of property in Tygh Valley.   I admit—it’s not an entirely fair comparison though, since I wasn’t wrangling weeds in Africa.

The kids bought a five-acre piece of property in happy pursuit of the dream of having a big garden and chickens and a family compound of sorts. Surrounded by wheat fields, buttes and breathtaking scenery, the place has delivered on its promise of serenity, sunshine and possibilities.   And then there were weeds …. and rocks… and ground squirrels…. and yellow-jackets … and a badger—all of which had staked their claim on the place during the years of neglect between owners. Although an acre-and-a-half had been (emphasis on past-tense) tamed a few years ago, its return to the wild was complete by the time we took possession.   By the end of day three after moving in, I was a woman-possessed—and armed.  Prepared for battle with heavy leather work gloves, leaf-bags, an arsenal of weeding tools, and a pioneer-spirit, I went to work.

Goat Heads will puncture bike tires & feet

“What the heck IS all this stuff?” I asked a Master Gardner at one of the last Farmer’s Market days in The Dalles last season. She plied me with brochures and resources, then told me about the Master Gardner program.  That was August of last year and I was hooked. So here I am a fledgling Master Gardner-in-training and the answers are/could be/might be: Cheat Grass, Foxtail Barley, Bull Thistle, Scotch Thistle, Wheat,  Dandelions of course, and False Dandelion (didn’t know there was such a thing),  Field bindweed, Puncture-vine (aka Goat Heads) Knapweed, Wild Geranium, ad infinitum.  Add blackberries, flowering rush (I think) and willow along the unlined irrigation ditch and it’s the gardener’s version of The Perfect Storm. In short, most of the weeds appearing on the PNW weed identification site and some that aren’t are in evidence under-foot, in the cat’s fur, in the gardens, and embedded in my shoes.

None of us have had much time for clean-up, but what time there was, had to be sandwiched between a newborn baby/grandbaby and jobs on Mt. Hood. It’s been a harsh learning curve, with many discoveries, one of which was that of the “seed bank.”   Who knew….  This was not a happy discovery as I’d spent a hideous amount of time pulling weeds out of a previously landscaped bed – un-fortuitously situated across the road from a wheat field, only to have it covered with beautiful grass-like sprouts a few weeks later.  Thrilled with the possibility that the lawn grass had “just needed room to spread,”  it soon became apparent that this was not grass.  And that’s when I began to understand the work of a seed-bank and wished my own bank account would yield such a return to abundance when emptied.  

Having given away ALL of my yard tools when I sold my house to go to Africa, I’m in the process of re-stocking. I am now the proud new owner of a stand-up weed puller, which offered the promise of Dandelion control (not so), a hula-hoe (truly God’s answer to a seed-bank) and sundry other yard tools which promised to ease the work-load.

Hula Hoe

By late-Fall, the debris pile had grown to the size of a small house and burning just didn’t seem like a good idea considering that much of Oregon had recently been on fire. Finding no-one willing to haul it away, we ended up renting a U-Haul truck with the Granny Attic and filled it to capacity, dumping it at the Transfer Station, but leaving at least a third of it for another load.  The next load consisted of 50+ paper leaf-bags transported in style in a shiny new rented box-van.   I’m sure a burn-barrel is in our future—when we can find one.  I know people burn out here all the time, but frankly I don’t want to be the one to set the hill on fire when a flaming tumble-weed escapes before I can bat it down.   As of this writing, much of what was cut away to create a fire-barrier, is now in the process of growing back, so it will require constant maintenance

In the war-against Dandelions, the Dandelions have won. What precipitated this surrender was the collection of a bushel of Dandelion blossoms and seed heads (a half-hour’s harvest), accomplished to the mantra “there are still plenty left for the bees!”  What happened next can only be described as karmic.  As I reached down to pick up an armload to  transfer to the paper leaf bag, I was stung by just such a bee, foraging from the picked supply.   Mea-culpa.    I think Dandelion salads and tea might be my best revenge.

Periodic use of the hula-hoe has been nothing short of magical in making “withdrawals” from the seed-bank with minimal soil disturbance.   A weed-torch has been useful in preparing the 32’x24’ area we’re prepping for the garden which we’ll put in too-late because we’re still hand-digging the thirteen, 28” deep post holes in soil that is at least 50% rock, to erect an eight-foot "deer proof" fence.

Future weed-puller

Yep! We’re the newcomers, city-clickers, novices, dreamers, optimists—so  feel free to laugh and cry at our efforts (we are).  But progress is afoot and I have new appreciation for the Ugandan expression:  “slowly-by-slowly.”  By the time this confession goes to print, the fence will be up and hopefully, our one small “starter row” with its temporary chicken-wire fence will not have been consumed by the deer – or the ground squirrels – or the badger.   And I fully plan on teaching my grandson, that if he’s very good, I’ll let him pull weeds. But he’s still a little young. 

Post Script: 
I'm happy to say, my future weed-puller  likes "working in the yard with Nana," and is becoming a fine puller of weeds (as well as the random flower... and the occasional-but not-often,  cat-tail). Bribery has not been involved.