Borge Street Park, Oakton

by Jen Pradas

The landscape of the small park near my home resembled the thicket protecting Sleeping Beauty’s castle. We could have used Prince Philip and his sword, but lacking his majesty my volunteers and I armed ourselves with clippers, saws, and a machete. As we fought the vicious foliage, the thorns cut through our jeans and leather gloves. Undaunted, we continued week after week, year after year.  For a while  I went and worked daily with a goal of one  bag of invasive plants per day.

When we first reached the interior of the park we found  thousands of beer bottles, a broken camp stove and a torn sleeping bag.  As we cleared the area of vines  the canopy opened up and you could see one end of the park to the other.  I started getting complaints. The neighbors bordering the park grumbled that I had taken away their privacy.  A teenager protested that I had destroyed her drinking hide-a-way. (At least she was being honest.) A father, who brought his kids to the playground noted, “Well, there goes our bathroom.”  Another neighbor yelled at me that his family had been picking the Himalayan Blackberry for years to make pies and I had ruined a family tradition. Some neighbors filed grievances with the park department,  who in turn, wrote letters supporting me.

Although I had sent an email to my community explaining what I was doing, we also decided to hold an informative meeting at the local library.  Despite all the protests, only a couple whose home bordered the park showed up.  Once they understood the dangers of the invasive plants, they went from being concerned to  staunch supporters. 

Fourteen years later I get compliments instead of complaints. People amble along the path created by a troop of boy scouts.  Observant visitors enjoy the wildflowers and wildlife, especially near the pollinator garden. 

The park still needs maintenance, as the invasive plants continue to pop up, or new ones appear, but it is no longer overwhelming.