There is a corner of our yard that we've never tamed. We didn't know (or more accurately, sorta forgot) we had it until the people that live behind us tried to horn in on our property. Once the boundary dust settled, and the threats to call a lawyer subsided, it reaffirmed our ownership of a triangle of not-insignificant size in the back.
Of course, blackberries don't give two shits about boundaries. They have been horning in on our triangle for years, and it's just gotten worse, as these things are wont to do. But we're finally on the verge of getting a much-needed fence, which means the blackberries gotta go. Or else we need to give up and just cede them the triangle.
After considering that option seriously (I am as lazy as I am cheap), I finally decided to take the mofos out. Last weekend I attacked the blackberry vines, loppers in hand and string trimmer at the ready. I considered buying a chainsaw and seeing what gasoline and matches might get me, but my wife reminded me of my near electrocution when I thought it would be a good idea to cut through a printer cord with a pair of scissors (hey, I'd turned it off).
Anyway, I've made a significant amount of headway with only minimal blood loss (non caused by my own tools), so I'm feeling optimistic as I tackle the back half off the patch. Unfortunately for me, the loppers, the string trimmer (which ran out of string) and my new clippers, the back half is the more vital half. Vital, but still overmatched. I hope.
Maybe getting a buttload of blackberry brambles (literally) will imbue me with that kind of stick-to-it-iveness. We'll see, when the next home project comes around.
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