The Vapor
Earl opened the squeaky back door and smiled as Jelly, his chocolate lab, bounded out in front of him. The back yard motion lights flicked on and caught the dog in their beams as she raced to the edge of the forest. It wasn’t fully dark yet, but dusk was settling in in her velvet, purpled cloak. Earl shouldered his big canvas satchel and hooked his flashlight on his belt. He pulled on gardening gloves and stepped out into the evening to do battle. Not bothering to step over the pink and green plants at his feet, or spreading out into the yard and into the forest, Earl trampled right through them.
Every evening since he’d moved into this trailer after his wife Hanna had died, Earl had gone out into the forest to face his enemy. Every night, after his shift at the plant, rain or shine, Earl and Jelly met the beasts with his gloves and satchel. Tonight he was eager to depart, the beasts were flowering. Jelly barked at him from the tree line.
“I’m coming, girl, hold your horses.” She busied herself with sniffing around while he made his way across the darkening yard. Jelly had really been Hanna’s dog. Earl had gotten the puppy from a friend who had found Jelly’s rambunctious temperament a bit more than she could handle. At that point, the puppy had been named Joy. One night Hanna had heard a noise in the kitchen and nudged Earl to go look. Earl had found the dog sprawled out on the linoleum covered in jam, with her nose stuck in the jar. Apparently Earl had forgotten to put the jar back in the fridge. Hanna had rechristened her Jelly after that and it stuck. Hanna had also trained and tamed the puppy. They’d been near constant companions as Hanna worked the small farm the two lived on. Earl still worked at the plant, but helped Hanna in the evenings with any task that needed more than two hands. They’d always had enough, even with a voracious chocolate lab on the property.
Earl watched Jelly bound away as he neared, the dog was nearly seven now, but never seemed to lose her pep. The full moon rose behind him, always a welcome companion on his and Jelly’s night walks. He paused and checked the map on his phone, whistled to Jelly, then headed North.
Tradescantia spathacea was, admittedly, an attractive plant. With dark green upper leaves that were rich purple underneath, it grew in spiky, upright clumps, it would make a great landscaping addition for a conscientious gardener. The problem was, it was invasive and overtaking Earl’s land. It grew so quickly and easily that it was beginning to choke out many of the native plants. On the weekends Earl’s buddy from the Parks Department came out to help, sometimes with volunteers, but the beast, as Earl called it, spread faster than they could pull it. Which was why Earl never missed a day, or night as was usually the case. Even though work was exhausting and there were definitely nights where he would love to put his feet up, turn on the TV, and crack open a beer. He loved the forest too much to see it erased by this sprawling monster plant.
Earl hadn’t been able to, and really didn’t want to, keep the farm up without Hanna when she’d died, so he’d bought this little trailer on the edge of the woods. It was closer to the plant and Jelly still had plenty of room to roam. The beast had long since claimed the land by then. Likely the former owners had planted it and not counted on how quickly it would spread if not maintained. After a couple of weeks walking the forest with Jelly he’d realized just how bad the problem was and got to work. He’d left the land around the trailer for last as a reminder that his work in the forest wasn’t done. That he still had to trek out there, every day until it was done. Once the forest was clear, he’d start on his own plot. That would be much easier. Earl couldn’t wait to fire up a backhoe and rip those weeds right out of the ground. He and Jelly had already drawn up plans for the native garden they’d eventually enjoy.
But for now it was work, dinner, then night walks pulling weeds. Jelly loved it, he spotted her up ahead, a brown, floppy blob in the darkening light. Earl shone his light up in the trees, an owl blinked in the beam and he chuckled, he loved their night walks, too, if he was being honest. He checked his map again, he should be right on a big clump they’d spotted the night before. His light caught the dark green plants and he whistled to Jelly as he got down to his knees, dropping his canvas sack beside him. In moments the dog was at his side.
“Good girl,” he handed her a treat from his pocket, “You know what to do.” And she did, she let out a yip and turned to face the night. For a lab, she was a great watchdog. The forest felt different tonight. It was quieter, for one. The usual chorus of frogs and crickets had been winnowed down to just a few brave lads, chirping in solo now and again. Maybe a fox had just run through.
Earl eyed the clump again, it was bigger than he remembered, hopefully it would all fit in his satchel. He was only good for a couple of hours if he wanted to be able to get up for work in the morning, so he had to weed fast. Leaving any part of the plant in the ground would mean it could grow back. And likely would. So he had to be thorough. Earl thought of invasive plants as similar to negative thoughts that brought you down. All the mistakes you made in your life, the things you never said, all the bad times, the hateful things, those kinds of thoughts. The thoughts that just grew and grew if you let them, choking out anything positive and productive. Your mind could never be a healthy ecosystem with those kinds of thoughts, it was the same for the forest. It could never be healthy with invasive plants.
After an hour of work Earl stood up to stretch his back and noticed Jelly was standing a few feet from him, tail erect, head cocked to the side.
“What’s up, Jell? You hear something?” The dog whined and came to stand by his side. The eerie feeling that the forest was off somehow returned. Even the diehard romantics had stopped their lonely serenades. A noise off in the distance made Earl shiver. He strained his ears, it was high-pitched and metallic, but still organic. An insect? Bugs could sound pretty weird. Odd he’d never heard it before. He knew these woods like he’d known his Hanna’s scent. Even with his eyes closed, he could navigate it.
“Jesus, better not be another invasive. I’ve got my hands full as it is. I don’t think I can chase bugs on top of weeds.” The yellow-green light had started filtering through the trees so slowly he hadn’t registered it at first. But as it neared the sound became louder and more piercing. It was like a high strung motor crossed with a cicada. Jelly whined by his side, but didn’t move.