Mint plants should come with warning labels. I would have done things differently had I known.
But I bought my mint plant when we moved into our house eleven years ago expecting to have to nurture the tiny leaves.
I tenderly planted the tiny sprouts, protecting their frail roots and pouring water and food to them.
The mint turned warlord on me, wiping out every other plant in the box on its way to world domination. It was threatening to choke off all the weeds. That wasn’t a bad thing but think about what kind of monster plant can defeat weeds.
Rest assured that I stepped up, did my duty, and replanted the mint into a smaller and more contained area.
I battled mint for several years in the first location. It was guerrilla warfare with the new sprouts sneaking up behind iris and lilies. I yanked and they circled around searching for a fresh spot of ground where they emerged with force.
Meanwhile the newly-planted mint filled its new country fast enough to place in the 100-yard dash at the Olympic games.
World domination is still on this mint’s mind. I’m sure of it. Here’s an example.
After a recent summer storm, I stepped outside expected to draw in the fresh scent of rain-cleansed evening air.
But, no, the mint had taken to the airways and my nostrils were assaulted by a mint-drenched breeze.
When I told my daughter about the storm, she said, “Oh, I hope the hail didn’t hurt the mint.”
To which my son replied, “You can’t destroy this mint with a flame thrower.”
He’s right. That would require a warning label.