One of the constants of gardening is inconstancy. Plants grow, conditions change, rain falls in abundance or hardly at all, and what worked one year becomes useless or even destructive the next. Though some routines and practices will recur almost daily in any gardener’s life, adaptation is the true key to success.

The fledgling orchard here at CCA certainly illustrates that need for adaptation. Once a smooth sward of chemically regulated and machine-mowed grass, the orchard is now a diverse ecosystem. And it is getting more so all the time: whereas I was once excited just to see robins perched on the trees when I walked the paths, I now find scores of different beetles, dragonflies, birds, and caterpillars, not to mention a dozen varieties of native wildflowers and a respectable load of rabbit poo.

But with all this abundance have also come the inevitable problems—in the form of invasive plant species. Gratefully, we have seen no trace of fountaingrass or knotweed, two species so aggressive that they can cause even the sturdiest native gardener a stab of despair. But we do have one thorn in our side: Asiatic Bittersweet.

Originally brought to the U.S. from East Asia as an ornamental, Asiatic Bittersweet is a lovely, wandering vine whose red berries make it a favorite material for autumn wreaths. All of that would be well and good, if the plant weren’t also an aggressive spreader capable of growing 100 feet long that harbors ticks, negatively alters soil chemistry, and fatally chokes the plants around which it twines.

I first identified bittersweet in our orchard over the summer with the help of a former student and friend. Digging up a little seedling, he pointed out the tell-tale orange roots, and thus the battle began. Yet, as intimidating as it might be, the management of invasives is an unavoidable and healthy part of a project like this, and our student volunteers have taken to it beautifully. (I should note, by the way, that not all bittersweet is an evil: we have our own native North American variety that is easy to distinguish from its destructive cousin and should be actively preserved.)

Two of our student leaders doing the Lord’s work.

Like so many other worthwhile things in life, there is no easy way to do it: the western edge of the orchard has to be combed regularly and the seedlings rooted out using mattocks or spades. The result is always a small pile of bittersweet seedlings and a satisfied expression on the students’ faces.

If you care about the natural world, it can be easy to fall into the false assumption that it would all be better off without human management. Of course, it was humans who brought the Bittersweet here from Asia, but a migratory bird could have easily done the same, and it is only humans who can manage it. Taking part in that work is not just a satisfying process, it’s a responsible one—all the more when we do it as a community.