Springtime in the Garden

I have a well-established garden and among the plants in my backyard is a bush that I've heard locals call a beach rose.  That name sounds sweet but this plant is less charming rose and more malevolent, thorny, beast.  In fact, JT and I call it the Thorny Beast and unless we have on armored suits, we steer clear of it.

If someone advised me that the bush ate small children, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised (it did once attempt to consume my nephew S, who barely escaped).  Once Thorny Beast blooms, it's covered in lovely green foliage and white flowers.  Hidden underneath that beauty are hundreds of sturdy, prickly thorns.  Once bloomed, it grows voraciously and is nearly impossible to trim because the thorns are abundant and prohibitively lethal. 

So I must trim the plant before spring has really taken hold, when I might be able to avoid the worst of the thorns.  I suited up yesterday to get the job done.  I wore my new garden gloves (thanks, Santa) and waded in, knowing that I would be injured, but aware that if I don't clip it now the house will be overgrown by thorns come June.  Rest assured that Thorny Beast doesn't go down without a fight, as my bloody ankles and hands can testify.  I gave it a pretty serious clipping.

Then I collected the lethal branches with some downed tree limbs and deposited it out front for the township to pick up.  Let's hope they have on some leather gloves when they stop at Sassafras House.