Published: April 30, 2008 05:06 pm            

Giving up on berm No. 2

I finally decided to give up on Berm No. 2. Despite my best efforts, constant vigilance, dark-of-the-moon incantations and intense body language for at least three years, this lousy mound of dirt has failed to grow anything.

Let me rephrase that. It has failed to grow anything I planted there. Weeds, of course, and grass have done quite well. Bumper crop, in fact, best in the neighborhood.

Berm No. 2 was created as a direct result of the overwhelming success of Berm No. 1, which sits at the edge of my driveway. This initial effort came shortly after we moved into the house. The original owner had planted spruce trees on either side of the driveway, sort of like sentinels. Cute. But by the time we moved in 20 years later, the trees had spread out and covered part of the drive itself. So much so that coming home after work was like crashing though a rain forest. I felt like Indiana Jones.

Ultimately, I cut down the worst offender. Then I brought in a load of dirt, built a nice little berm, put a rock wall around it, planted a smoke tree, some junipers and Vinca Minor, and sat back to see what would happen.

What happened was everything grew. The berm was beautiful. Gorgeous, in fact. I even thought about contacting Better Homes and Gardens and suggesting a cover story on my beautiful berm.

Fast forward a few years. The electric company comes along and tells me my two boxwood trees at the other end of the yard are interfering with the power lines and must be cut down. The very next day I started building Berm No. 2 over the stumps. I built up the dirt, put a wood retaining wall around the front and side, planted a Barberry bush and a couple of rug junipers. As an afterthought I even popped in some of the vinca.

As I had done with Berm No. 1, I then sat back to watch beauty unfold. What happened was nothing. Every day I checked the Barberry and juniper for signs of progress. They were still alive, but they weren’t growing. They just sat there.

I added a little more mulch to make them feel better, and waited some more. Still nothing. No problem, I reasoned. First growth always goes to the roots. I was certain to see everything take off the second year. Yea!

What happened the second year looked an awful lot like what happened the first year. Nothing. I take that back. One of the junipers began to look a little anemic. I trimmed off a couple of dead branches and made a point to talk to it in soothing tones several times a week. By mid-summer more branches were dead. By September it gasped its last breath, and I dug it up.

By this time I was feeling pangs of anxiety and developed a tic in my left cheek. Every day I checked the remaining juniper and the Barberry. Both were hanging in there but neither showed any new growth. Likewise, the Vinca Minor. It, too, was alive but growth was slight, if at all.

What was alive and healthy was the grass and weeds. They moved in and grew like crazy. The more I pulled the stuff up, the faster and more furiously it grew. The weeds had taproots no less than 30 feet deep I’m sure, and the grass sent out rhizomes for miles in all directions, sprouting more grass as they went.

All summer I pulled weeds and grass. Late in the season the other juniper started to look sick. Limbs turned brown and died. Half the Barberry died back and the remainder looked like it might be coming down with something incurable.

Last week I mowed the lawn for the first time and took a long look at the berm. The juniper was down to a single, living branch, and the Barberry had totally given up the ghost. At the same time the grass and weeds looked robust and ready to launch a major assault. Two days later I got out the shovel and put the poor thing out of its misery.

Berm No. 2 is bare ground at the moment while my wife and I decide what to try next. I suppose we could always plant grass.



Ward Degler is a Zionsville writer and artist. E-mail him at wdegler@att.net.

        

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