This weekend, I went out there again. I’m told that some days there are organized ‘group clean-ups’, but this Sunday, it was just me and the volunteer coordinator, Ronny Hershkovits. It’s my kind of job — I don’t have to talk to anyone, and no one has to talk to me. Next time though, I’m going to bring a cheap, transistor radio. (Man, does my use of that term date me?) Hershkovits said he thought it was important to make a show of coming out week-after-week. I said, “Well, it’s working, you got me.”
I came oh-so-close to having my morning ruined by some poison ivy, but got saved at the last second. I now have a pretty good idea as to what it looks like. I may have even touched it a little. I read later, that 15% –30% of people are immune to the stuff, but I really don’t want to find out if I’m in that group. I had suntan lotion on my arms — maybe that helped, too.
Here is a pic of the result of a couple of hours work. The vines (English ivy) are amazing — I could see that it must produce some kind of glue that lets it stick to the stone. It’s impressive... but in me, they have met their bane. This bit of business took shears, a hacksaw, and lots of just plain yanking. You really have no idea when you start to work, what is underneath.
(Sorry for the blurry shot, I think the heat/humidity was somehow screwing with the auto-focus.)