Kudzu - Never Heard of it Before

I'm a northern girl. Any travel outside of the Northeast pretty much consisted of a few vacations to Florida, except for my honeymoon to Cozumel, Mexico. My life has been filled with all that comes with raising a family over these last twelve years: diapers, formula, first words, potty training, and all of that has left very little time (and money) for travel and venturing out to see the beauty our country offers.

Kudzu in my neighborhood

When we moved our family to the outskirts of Raleigh, one of the first things we saw was this beautiful vine sprawling over the landscapes. In Maine, I was used to seeing ivy grow on chimneys and moving up the sides of homes. It was beautiful in the warm summer months. After we drove here through what looked like a tunnel with this vine on either side of our car, my son immediately recognized it as kudzu, "the plant that ate the south." I found it amazing that he had learned about this plant in school only months before we moved, and yet I had never heard of it before.

This plant was brought to America in the late 1800's by the Japanese government. It was widely distributed and encouraged to grow here in the south. Unfortunately, this plant was brought here without the bugs that help to keep it under control so it grows better here than it does in it's native land.  In fact, it's now difficult to get rid of as it is resistant to most herbicides.

As I walk through my neighborhood, it's undeniable how destructive this plant can be. It can grow up to a foot a day and loves to crawl up trees and vegetation allowing next to no light for the trees to thrive underneath. There are spots where trees die and the leaves seem to want to cover the roads. But it's so pretty if you overlook the fact that it kills all that it covers.

I look at just about everything through a different lens these days. I see this plant and think..."hmmm...what can I learn from this?" One thing that strikes me is how I can conceal what isn't healthy by putting on a smile, or work hard to make sure what the people around me see is only good and worth seeing. I can say I'm fine and convince my friends that all is wonderful, but underneath it all is that same destruction like under the kudzu. Why don't I come clean? Because this is what I've always done. Because I think nobody really wants to hear my tale of woe. Because then I become vulnerable and weak in people's eyes. It all boils down to acceptance and approval from a place where it doesn't belong. It is not man who I should look to for approval.

It's amazing that a simple plant has shown me a glimpse of myself. And like all of the things that are revealed to me, I must choose to respond or ignore.