I live in the Deep South and love gardening. The first thing I planted when I moved into my Mississippi cottage was wisteria—a showy flowering vine that is almost a symbol of Southern living. It grows wild in the woods all over the state, which should have been a warning sign to me. The gorgeous purple flowers hang in clusters from the trees and perfume the area with a sweet fragrance that is intoxicating in the spring. When it blooms, there is an explosion of color in the garden. Planted beside a yellow climbing Lady Banks rose (in the foreground of the first photo), the wisteria creates a spectacle that caused people to stop their cars in front of my house to look and snap pictures.  

     But wisteria is a fast-growing, climbing vine. I thought I could keep it trimmed back, but it grew too fast for me. I could travel for two weeks, and come home to find the wisteria had climbed high into the trees beyond my reach. Impossible for me to cut back without risk of falling off a ladder and breaking my neck. 

     Unlike the clematis, it does not grow on a tiny wisp of stem that never overwhelms other plants or structures. If left in the garden for years, the trunk will grow big and heavy. Slowly it begins to strangle and weigh down the trees and fences it has attached itself to. Eventually, smaller trees will break under the weight of the vine, fences will collapse, and large trees will not get enough sunlight so their own leaves can grow. 

     For all its beauty, the wisteria is also poisonous. Both the flowers and the seed pods contain toxins that will cause great distress if they are ingested.

     When my prized Golden rain tree collapsed (the entire tree!) under the weight of wisteria after a heavy rain, I should have taken steps to remove it. But, no. I was obsessed with its beauty. I could hardly wait till spring when it would put on a spectacular show. I told myself the Golden rain tree had created too much shade in the garden, and now I could plant sun-loving flowers in its place.

     Next, the wisteria managed to swing from the magnolia tree in my enclosed Angel Garden to the pecan tree across the fence. My lawn-care guy told me he was going to arrive at my cottage to cut my grass and have to hack through the wisteria with a machete to get me out of the house. Still, I love purple! I love bloom! I love fragrance!

     I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of the wisteria. Do I hear you gardeners laughing? You should be. Getting rid of wisteria is like launching a battle against an enemy who is bigger, stronger, and smarter than you. Did I mention the vine is also tenacious.? Cut it down and it will grow back in a heartbeat. Pay an arborist to cut it down then grind the stump, and there will be one small root way under the ground just waiting its chance to sprout when you’re not watching, and start growing like wildfire.

     My wisteria is mostly gone now, but it’s still launching sneak attacks and I’m still fighting back. It occurred to me that the story of my battle with wisteria is a perfect symbol for letting enjoyment of a good thing get out of hand, go too far, become an obsession that does damage. Chocolate, anyone? If one Hershey’s bar is good, then a six pack is divine. Right? Forget health and doctor’s warnings about diabetes.  You want me to serve on one more committee? It’s for a good cause, right? Forget that I already serve on seven committees in my church and community, and I have a family who is crying out for attention. 

     Good things can be sneaky. They can become an obsession. I’m trying to learn to recognize when a good thing becomes too much. 

     God is good! 

  Peggy Webb