I've been waging war with honeysuckle almost since the day we moved here. Like another war, in a long-ago time and a land far, far away, this is ultimately an unwinnable conflict—at least from the Big Picture perspective.
But I don't care about winning the war, per se; this is personal! I care about winning battles. My battles. Fought on my modest acre of riverbank land. Battles I can and do win! All it takes is due diligence, sharp, loppers, a brush saw, and plenty of sweat and hard work. Plus a caviler disregard for self-induced bloodletting, twisted ankles, and the endless sticky spiderwebs netting themselves across your face, down your back, or in your hair—occasionally with their eight-legged builders attached.
My latest victory is what you see in the photo. The tree-framed upstream view of the riffle directly in front of the cottage, as seen from the side yard. When I started you quite literally could not see the river. Watery glints at the most here and there through the wall of green honeysuckle leaves.
I know it doesn't look like much. But believe me, it didn't come easy. Nearly a day's worth of labor…er, battle…in mid-80˚ temps. Perhaps a dozen feet, plus another also-cleared 50 feet you can't see to the right of the above image. Sixty feet total.
A view worth fighting and lopping, sawing and sweating, and spitting spiderwebs for! Hooray!