Arizona is home to some humongous tumbleweeds. Watch any old western movie, and you’ll generally spot a few in each one, most of them rolling through deserted ghost towns. When my brother was young and we lived in Alabama, Jimmy wanted one for our room. He never came across any tumbleweeds living in Selma, thus his dream remained an empty one.
Many people seem to believe that tumbleweeds are native to North America. I did too until taking the time to read up on them. It turns out they came to this part of the world from the Ukraine in Russia, most likely in bags of flax seed. This took place around 1880. An invasive species of thistle, it didn’t take long before they were tumbling across the deserts of Arizona, tossing out free seeds like Santa does candy canes at Christmas.
The botanical name for tumbleweeds is Salsola tragus. Prickly Russian thistle is another. Other names used especially by farmers and ranchers are unprintable. Some folks are allergic to just touching them and I recently found that out. Much like poison ivy or poison oak, bubbly and painful bumps cover my exposed legs and arms after encountering a renegade band of the thistles. Calamine lotion is now helping sooth and take care of the itch and discomfort.
We were driving on I-40 two years ago, coming back from Laughlin, when a giant tumbleweed seemingly came out of nowhere sailing across the road, this enormous weed propelled solely by Maria. For those not grasping that last line, a song titled, “They Call the Wind Maria,” by Harve Presnell, became a top hit in 1969 after its release. Just for grins, I’ve called the wind Maria ever since. Maria and tumbleweeds go hand in hand.
My reflexes that evening on the interstate weren’t the same as they once were, thus I hit the tumbleweed head on with our Dodge pickup. Looking in the rearview mirror, all that remained was straw and dust, as the impact totally obliterated things. I thought my nice glossy paint would be scratched up, but after pulling off the road and taking a look, I didn’t find one blemish. Ram tough came through once again.
Living right next to BLM property here in Lake Havasu City, rogue tumbleweeds show up in our yard uninvited from time to time, especially during winter when Maria is prevalent. I’ve sent them on their way with a swift kick, yet most of the time their journey ends here.
A well-used snow shovel from our Alaska years and brought to Lake Havasu City as a souvenir now comes in quite handy dealing with these unwanted visitors.
The large and heavy tool works great for snuffing out dried and brittle ones. I use it to smack them silly. They basically disintegrate after a couple of good solid hits. Pre-emergent herbicide takes care of any seeds left behind, keeping them from sprouting. Quite often, my flame thrower comes out of hibernation to cremate them. That’s what I call our large propane weed burner.
A local insect and herbicide company employee says there’s not much you can do to keep tumble weeds from growing, other than pull them out of the ground while still alive and let them die. As mentioned, use a pre-emergent herbicide to keep seeds from germinating. He said the biggest weeds need to be removed for this chemical to work as intended.
Joleen and I have a piece of vacant property in Kingman that tumbleweeds love to take up residence on. They’ve become squatters, moving in without asking permission. Most likely, they see our lot as a safe sanctuary much like San Francisco does with certain people.
During summer they appear, and then come late fall or winter they disappear. Exactly where do they go? I suppose all different directions depending on Maria’s choosing. This is part of their life cycle and they’ll keep tumbling until totally falling apart. Studies show tumbleweeds can travel several miles before disintegrating as long as nothing gets in the way, like walls, fences, or Dodge pickups.
Tumbleweeds aren’t all bad. In the western movie, Conagher, starring Sam Elliot and Katherine Ross, the part that Ms. Ross plays is of a widow (Evie Teale) living by herself in the wilds trying to raise two children.
In desperation, she places poetic notes into tumbleweeds and turns them loose. Conn Conagher (Sam Elliot) finds several of the messages and eventually discovers who wrote them. Of course, it has a happy ending. This is one of my wife’s favorite movies for that reason alone.
Just recently, I was trying to annihilate a few tumbleweeds on our Kingman lot so that several gallons of Ortho Groundclear would penetrate into the roots. A gentleman living next door came over and was inquisitive about such, curiously wondering what I was doing to begin with, and what was I going to do with the removed vegetation. I had them stacked in a corner of our property. His concern was that they’d end up in his yard once Maria made her presence.
This subdivision is in Cerbat Canyon and the surrounding acreage is inundated with tumbleweeds, kazillions of them, everywhere. After dying, they can be spotted rolling down the street, ending up in yards, and eventually the golf course. That’s how our property and other barren ground on the hill got infested with seeds. Officially, this infestation of weeds comes under the heading: an act of nature.
Standing out front of our property that morning, sweating like a wart hog, perspiration coming down like rain after cutting a swath into the lot by hand, I started feeling the burn and itch of coming in close contact with these spiny creatures. My back was aching as well.
After being asked what was I going to do with them, I had to stand there and think for several seconds before silently chuckling to myself. It reminded me of something told to me four years ago by a good friend.
Jim Brownfield mentioned to me when I asked what his plans were for the weekend, “I’m going to free Willy!” I wasn’t totally quite sure what he meant by that statement. Knowing that Free Willy was the name of a movie about a trapped whale, I wondered if he liked the film so much, that he planned on watching it marathon style. Seeing my puzzled state of mind, Jim explained things further.
He planned to cut some dead brush at the back wall of his home, and cleverly, Jim named all of the tumbleweeds, Willy. By severing the roots that bound Willy to the soil, Jim said freeing them was the righteous thing to do. I informed him of my snow shovel trick, but he didn’t want to put forth that much energy where work was concerned. Being retired myself, I know the feeling.
Walking over to watch, it wasn’t long before a brisk northerly breeze started a few of of his freed tumbleweeds on their pilgrimage to freedom. Borrowing a line from the movie, Forrest Gump, and changing wording just a bit, I couldn’t help but jokingly call out to the lead weed, “Run Willy Run!”
If someone should ever inquire as to what direction a herd of freed tumbleweeds go once they stampede, Maria is the only one knowing the answer. One thing I’ve noticed during my 69 years, much like several women I’m acquainted with, Maria’s plans can suddenly change at any given moment.
I like to write junk... 