My Nemesis

Matt and I are fortunate to have a mulberry tree growing in our backyard...and by "fortunate," I mean I hate that tree. It is my nemesis.

nem·e·sis

1. something that a person cannot conquer, achieve, etc.

2. an opponent or rival whom a person cannot best or overcome.

Having one's own fruit tree seems really cool and loving...a little bit of farm-fresh wholesomeness in the suburbs. WRONG. All this bastard does is drop sticky, gooey, smelly berries *all over* the driveway. They stain the concrete, they attract flies, and they look awful.

Bane of my existence.

Now, you might ask, 'well, JLlo, why don't you just pick the berries and eat them, before they fall on the driveway?' Yeah, that seems logical, until you realize that all the berries are in the tallest branches, way out of my reach, or even Matt's. I thought, maybe, that some local birds might eat them, but apparently nature is constantly foiling me, because the birds just look at the mulberries and laugh.



So, I end up sweeping all the berries off of the driveway...which is not without it's own insanities. Mostly, the grass that borders the concrete is so heavy with mulberries, that, if you just touch a single blade of grass with the broom, it somehow catapults like 30 mulberries from their grassy resting place back onto the driveway.

How much RoundUp does it take to put down a mulberry tree?