I bought a house. It had a small blackberry shrub in the back lawn ... and a HUGE one along the back fence.My wife said "YUM" and eagerly looked forward to all the blackberries she could eat.Year two: the blackberries started taking over the lawn, and the back fence. I put my foot down and started The Battle of the Blackberries! Tore them out root and branch.Year three: Didn't get all the roots. Started all over. Dug out half the yard and all the back fence.Year four: Poison. Contemplated fire, but couldn't find a blowtorch big enough to keep up with themYear five: Wife said "I miss the black berries, can't we keep just SOME of them?"Year six: I quit chopping at the cute little vines.Year seven: the blackberries take over the back yard, the back fence, and are sneaking up on the house from its 'blind side'.Year eight: Full court press! "Root and Branch" are a weekly chore.Year nine: We are divorced.Year ten: I sell the house. Buyer's wife says "Blackberries! Oh, YUM!" (I snicker, and cash the check before I move out.)I
Kill them with fire.Or maybe nuke 'em from orbit.
It could be worse. Unlike kudzu, at least blackberry brambles produce tasty fruit.
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