THE CURSE of my gardening existence, as has often been noted here, is this bougainvillea that I planted when it was in a pot, and then I turned my back on it, so to speak.
When it spotted me otherwise engaged, it exploded — spikes, shedding flowers and all — to its current beastly status, virtually out of control, taunting me daily.
But I am battling back. At least, Abel the Deadpan Gardener is fighting back on my behalf. That’s him Tuesday morning giving the plant some much-deserved discipline.
For contrast, see the photo below that my child bride shot about a month ago as I posed for perspective’s sake.
That’s one big mother. That plant, that is.
But Abel’s labor did not stop there. One of the four ivy plants creeping along the Alamo Wall decided recently to take a dive, in a manner of speaking. It died, and I don’t know why.
It was firmly connected to the rock wall, and difficult to pull off even in its dead state, but Abel did a great job.
With the trimming done, he chopped everything and hauled it away in a wheelbarrow to somewhere out back, down a ravine where it will decompose as Mama Nature intended.
Abel went home with 500 pesos.
Not bad for three hours of work in the sunshine.