Wild Parsnip and the compulsion to burn it all down
We bought 20 acres of degraded pasture because the view from up-top was beautiful. Stunning. Soul nurturing. The view up close is less so, especially to someone whose eye is trained to see what shouldn’t be there. And what shouldn’t be in our prairie is a legion of alien invaders like buckthorn, honeysuckle, musk thistle. But worst of them all is Wild Parsnip which comes complete with a Thanos grade weapon: sap.
The goo running through Wild Parsnip is phytophototoxic. If it gets on your skin, you will get second-degree burns, blisters, boils. Maybe a hospital room. In your eyes, it can blind you. But here’s the alien, weird as shit part: Only if the sap on your skin is exposed to sunlight.
No sun; no problem. Sun light on goo? Uh-oh.
When I realized the extent of the problem on our land I came up with a simple, ingenious solution. We go scorched earth. And I meant that as an actual proposal. Poison every green thing on our parcel to be rid of the terrifying poison of one particular plant. Fortunately (I guess) cooler minds and stronger backs prevailed. Those would be my husband’s.
Because, he assures me, the better way is slow. Though, lets’ be honest, it offers none of the satisfaction of total annihilation.
Parsnip is a biennial. So the plan is to mow or dig the plants after they bloom but before the bloom sets seed, late enough that the fresh growth won’t get a seed head in either. Then again next year. And again the year after. You aren’t killing the plant so much as starving its grandchildren, drawing down the seed bank one denied generation at a time, until there’s no parsnip left to sprout.
And we, okay, fine, he, does it in helmet, face shield, long sleeves, and gloves, often in ninety-degree heat. We, he, looks magnificently miserable, like someone paying for some pretty nasty sins. Hour after hour, day after day. And still every single walk through the meadow turns up one more we missed.
That’s the part that sticks with me. We shouldn’t be out looking for parsnip. We should take the win, and see all the places it isn’t. But the places it isn’t keep turning up a straggler…
And somewhere in there, my friends, is the entire experience of doing a revision. Gotta love a good metaphor.