I had no trouble crawling between and under the Scottish broom and other plants growing in the backyard berm. My intention was to cut a beautyberry bush from the bottom because it had also sprouted a thorn bush, which had taken over the end of the mound. My guardian angel Jeff, grass-cutting guy, pointed out that he couldn’t cut around that area anymore, given that he had been attacked by tendrils of the sticker bush. Can’t say I blamed him. Those painful things grab onto you and don’t let go. So I ducked low, avoiding the branches overhead and used my long handled lopper to push growth aside. I cut away. Once the undergrowth was severed I would drag it all out from the top. The trouble was… I couldn’t get out.
There was no turnaround room and so I had to back out, sensing my way. The tools in my hand that helped me in… now hindered my exit. Those insidious sticker bush arms were now clinging to my shirt, my pants and my hair. The more I moved the more stuck I became. They were holding onto me from both sides and the top. Ouch! This was starting to hurt.
I wear a wig because I have alopecia (hair loss). So when I said the thorns were stuck in my hair, I really meant my wig. I envisioned my clothes tearing as I fought to get out, but my hair would be left behind, hanging on the bush. It would just come off. This had happened before. The creepy crawling bush thought it really had me. Little did it know: I was willing to part with my hair. I did manage to extract myself, although not without injury. My clothes had a few pulls and holes and my hair had a few pieces of debris, but at least, I was finally out.
Most of the vegetation lies on the ground now… some of it cut up in teenie tiny pieces and placed in a collection can. Tit for tat, I suppose. I tried to kill it and it was biting back. Some of it will live to fight another day… but not today!