We don't like ice plant. To me, anything that spreads so voraciously, without pausing for a drink of water, is creepy. Doug associates ice plant with highway medians, and orange-jacketed convicts cleaning up garbage in said medians.

So we were agreed: The ice plant spilling over on our corner patch had to go. You can just make out the lavender, nearly consumed by ice plant. Our mission: Rescue the lavender, and replace the ice plant with flowers.

After successfully planting an orange tree neatly in the front yard, Doug the newly emboldened gardener declared war on the ice plant Saturday. He attacked, rolling up matted vines and yanking them out. In no time, he had filled the 96-gallon garbage bin. (Ice plant is so awful, you can't dump it in the yard waste bin.)

Night fell. We kept going. Passing cars slowed as they caught us, shovel in hand, in their headlights. The closer we got to the end, the more stubborn the vine roots became. We went to bed exhausted, with no idea how much of a mess we might have made.

We surveyed the damage the next morning. Yep, looks awful. It's gonna look worse when the ice plant bits and pieces start growing again.

It's going to take a month to get rid of that pile with weekly garbage pick-up.

Yet we feel good: We won the first battle! I suspect we've blundered into an unwinnable fight, but eh, it's the thing to do these days.