Kudzu of the Midwest
You learn something new every day. Today I learned about Midwest plant life.
Lesson one: farmers who decide to let their field lie fallow don’t simply stand aside and let nature take its course; they actively plant grass seeds.
A small field about a block away from my parents’ house is slated for new houses, although I have no idea how swiftly the developer will pursue construction in the current market. In the past couple years, they grew corn while progress was underway on earlier houses, but for whatever reason—soil depletion, an intention to start building before the crop is in, something—they aren’t growing corn this year.
Instead, coarse grass is growing there. At first, I thought this was natural reclamation by native grasses, despite the way the grass came up in tidy little rows. My theory about the tidy rows was that the stalks of grass cropped up far more easily along the ridge of last year’s corn stalks, where there was little cover for the soil, and did not come up at all between last year’s stalks, where the old stalks had become tamped down into a thick, sunlight-choking carpet. But no, I gave nature too much credit. Dad told me the field was deliberately planted, and that the grass is all timothy, which is a common choice for cattle feed, mixed with clover and alfalfa.
In retrospect, I feel foolish. If the new growth really were natural, it wouldn’t all be the same plant, would it?
Lesson two: wild mustard is bad.
I always liked wild mustard. It’s a hardy plant with tiny, bright yellow flowers. They stay in bloom a long time, and they make a pretty addition to grassy fields, especially the strips along the highway.
But Aunt Linda cursed the wild mustard flowers we saw along the roadside yesterday. When I asked why, everyone else in the car explained that the Midwest is undergoing an invasion of a different kind of mustard of Chinese origin. Unlike the wild mustard I saw growing up, this stuff kills surrounding plants, and spreads like crazy. Allowed to go to seed one year, the next will see hundreds of its progeny in the immediate neighborhood. It’s highly invasive, the kudzu of the Great Plains.
Takes the fun out of seeing one of the few plants I can recognize and adore.