Thorns without Roses

Due to recent warm weather, I have had a chance to get out and work in my yard. One particular target of interest was a set of thorn bushes under my kitchen window. Now I understand planting rose bushes which just happen to also produce thorns, or falling victim to vagabond weeds that are thorny in nature; but why would anyone in their right mind intentionally plant a bush that produces just thorns? Was it to keep away small neighborhood children? Were they having a problem with people standing at the kitchen window making doe-eyes and salivating or weirdoes doing those obnoxious open-mouth puff faces against the glass? Perhaps they were just masochists and enjoyed getting torn to shreds whenever they turned on the outside water faucet. Whatever the case, I cared little for previous owners’ desire to grow the thorny monstrosities and/or apathy in removing them.

Unfortunately, as I live on base, any changes to landscaping must be approved by the housing office. Additionally, I have heard from numerous sources that removing bushes, trees, etc. from your yard is never authorized. However, I also realized that dead vegetation could and should be removed. Further, I was privy to the fact that that the housing office kept no record of what shrubbery does or does not exist on any given property. Since it was early in the season and the thorn bushes still appeared lifeless (they were dead to me already), I decided to act swiftly. I pulled on a pair of heavy-duty work gloves and retrieved a finely honed shovel from the dark recesses of my garage. I contemplated wearing a hooded jacket and sunglasses to disguise my identity, but ultimately decided against it doing any good since my name is prominently displayed next to the front door.

So, with instrument of destruction in hand, I dug, chopped and hacked the beasts (all the while hearing faint eeeet eeet eeet eeet sounds reminiscent of Psycho in my head). In the end, I came out of the encounter with multiple scratches and three imbedded thorns which required a needle to remove. My nemeses however lay roots-up on the curb waiting for the garbage man to take them to that great big compost pile in the sky (or the other place that I feel has been set aside especially for demon thorn bushes). I had won the battle and the war. Now once I heal my victory will be complete.