2013: Vile Wild Violets

We once had a home with a large yard in South County. Pat came in beaming one spring morning, delighted by the little blue flowers that had appeared in our lawn. 

Not knowing better, I celebrated it too. She requested that I put off mowing a few days to better enjoy the tiny blooms.

They came back the following year, in greater profusion.  In certain spots they appeared to be competing with the grass for coverage. In our third spring there I received a heads-up from a neighbor with a well-manicured yard. The wild violets had overtaken our lawn, and I’d play hell trying to get rid of them once firmly established. 

A plan of attack

I ran to Google and learned that we had entered a Twilight Zone. The common wild violet (Viola sororia) is an innocuous looking monster. It has waxy leaves that enable it to resist most herbicides. The violet reproduces sexually through pollination. It forms seed pods that open in the early summer, dumping dozens of potential baby violets. It’s also happy to spread asexually, through thick roots called rhizomes. Any attempt to pull up the plant that leaves the tiniest bit of root results in the regrowth of the violet. It is also a perennial weed, capable of crowding out a lawn entirely over the course of several years. 

The chemicals mentioned to treat the problem appeared toxic to children and pets and most likely grass. Wild violets would also require repeated application. One piece of advice recommended applying and reapplying Roundup in an attempt to wipe out everything, then replanting the lawn. A scorched earth policy with an army surplus flame thrower might do as much good.  

Best laid plans go awry

We told ourselves it appeared to be working after a couple of months. There were some wilting wild violet leaves, and grass a full shade darker. The lawn expert (Kevin) said we were developing a robust grass root system that could stand up to the violet challenge. “Go get ‘em, Kevin,” we cheered. 

The development of some patchy loose grass several weeks later alerted us to a new challenge. Grubs had discovered our newly rich source of grass roots, a favorite food. Now we had to raise our game with our lawn expert to include battles against both violets and grubs.

Walking over our lawn one day that same summer, we were struck by several new raised tracks of grass in our front yard. I could step on them and tamp them back down. Moles had discovered the presence of the grubs, and were tunneling down makeshift buffet lines in front of our house. We called a guy who went by the name “Mole Man”. 

While his wife waited in his old faded Chevy, Mole Man pulled several traps from his trunk, plus a dead mole in a bag. He handed it to me, promising that he would not only kill our moles, but deliver us the remains. He asked, “How can you trust anyone who won’t prove their results to you?” Seemed right to me, so we proceeded. 

And he got two, taking away the corpses for no extra charge. We kept his refrigerator magnet on display in our kitchen for some time. It featured a belly-up mole with ‘x’s for eyes.

Raising the white flag

After throwing several more months of service fees at our lawn expert, we discovered what proved the best solution to our dilemma. We listed and sold our home. 

It was a full year after we moved that my former horticultural neighbor told me that the new owners yard was a plague of wild violets. I could only sigh and be glad our Lafayette Square townhouse sported no grass at all. 

I’d mostly forgotten about this nasty episode until this spring in Lafayette Park. Walking our dogs, a friend remarked at how pretty the blue carpet of wild flowers looked. I failed to share his enthusiasm, though the contrast with the new redbud blooms was striking. 

For more adventures from our big old shared backyard, consult my website at https://lafayettesquarearchives.com