Trellis
Any of you who occupy an old farmhouse know about the odd bits accumulated in peculiar places about a farm. I am talking about three feet of curled barbed wire half buried, a small chunk of concrete where concrete could have never possibly been, a piece of metal, a broken brick, a section of siding. Even the most pristine farms have these spots where vegetation is trying with all its might to bury the neglect of humans. We ignore these blotches. Even those among us who search and destroy every dandelion by the root, in a sea of manicured grass can turn a blind eye to these small areas of neglect. And although they exist without fail at the site of old farmhouses, unclaimed spots exist everywhere.
I confronted one such untamable eyesore today- a broken up concrete slab in the process of being devoured by grapevine. In this place, that has niggled me as a nuisance does, for the mere fact that I have no idea how to deal with it, there was a gift. I have had the romantic notion of making pea trellises out of twisted grapevine for a couple of years. Grapevines were sprawled out on the concrete unhindered by any other growth. They were almost too easy to cut and collect, their leaves having yet to emerge. Less than half a dayʼs work later, I had a pea trellis. The simplicity of the project amazed me. As for one I did not have to wrestle chicken wire, use any tools (save my clippers), I spent no money (the stakes were in the ground from last yearʼs peas) and additional stakes I swiped from a neighbors brush pile.
It felt lovely to reclaim something left, not unlike dusting with an old baby tee, throwing on a worn, but favorite button down for doing a dirty job or finding indispensability in a yard sale item. Acknowledging this place and seeing the usefulness made the end result of my project that much better. Oh I know the concrete is still there and the grapevine will have renewed strength at being found out, but I feel much less irritable towards it and can hardly wait to get my peas in the ground tomorrow.
