They say there are no bad dogs, just bad owners. Or maybe it’s no bad kids, just bad parents. I don’t know. I had bad parents and I’m alright; My kid is awesome and mostly I am just guessing. I do know: there are no bad plants. Maybe you have gooseneck loosestrife or field bindweed; around here it’s Himalayan blackberry, Scotch Broom, and English Ivy. What about kudzu? I have to admit, if I was sitting on my porch on a warm evening it would be weird to hear something growing. Everyone knows these plants are EVIL.
It’s not the plants, though. It’s the place. Think about it: those plants do just fine where they are supposed to be…it is when they are planted somewhere where they should not be that the trouble starts.
Personally, I don’t think my patch of Northwest woodland could tell the difference between a native vine maple or a Japanese laceleaf maple. I don’t think the birds, the deer, the red squirrels, or anyone else but me would notice the difference. Chances are pretty good a Japanese laceleaf maple isn’t going to go to seed and create a green desert like ivy, or take over the prairie like buddleia. I could plant one, I am sure. I certainly love them and would like to…but I won’t. I am not going to be the guy that brings rabbits to Australia. My forest wants vine maples, and it wants huckleberry. It wants to be a Northwest woodland. It is me that wants black pine and Acer ‘Bloodgood.’ I remind myself: it isn’t the plant that is bad. It is the place that is bad for the plant.