Ivies: English and poison

 After clearing the brush out of the woodlot, I began removing the English ivy.

It’s invasive, and the place was overgrown. Cutting it doesn’t help. It must be pulled up, and it’s slow work. The typical vine is about the diameter of a pencil and might run 25 feet. But you never grab one vine: a handful is half a dozen, intertwined like cable. A cable of intertwined vines would hold my weight.

Some of the vines that ran up the trees were larger, about like the handle of a baseball bat.

The forest floor was covered in ivy, a foot deep in places. I’m trying to save the Virginia creepers, native vines that look like ivy, as I go.

The English ivy is lush, and it’s hard to see the poison ivy lurking therein.

I’ve had spots of poisoning for the past two months, but this bout will force me to stop for a few days. I’m trying to remember the remedies my grandfather used. I think he used Burow’s solution, but I also vaguely remember a homemade concoction with oatmeal.

I’m covered in calamine and wishing I had something stronger.