The multiflora rose

By Christine Tailer
HCP columnist 

They are so pretty, cascading out from the edge of the woods and flowing into the fields. Honeybees love them and gladly gather their yellow pollen. And so it seems that they do have some redeeming values. I, however, consider them my archenemy. 

It's actually difficult for me to think that I have any enemies at all, but the term archenemy applies perfectly to my relationship with the multiflora rose; my principal, chief and most formidable foe with whom I have waged years of unending war.

When I ride my zero-turn mower around the edges of the fields I imagine them laughing with delight. "Here she comes! Get those thorns sharpened!"

I always carry my snippers when I mow, and I when I see a multiflora rose vine up ahead, I slow down and inch carefully forward. I stop when I am close enough to reach over and cut the vine as low as I can, but without fail a breeze often starts to blow just as I am in safe snipping position. The once still the vine sways, and swipes across my arm leaving nasty red scratches in its path. I imagine that the breeze is laughing, too. They are partners in crime.

Sometimes I think that I can outsmart the vines by wearing a long sleeves shirt, even though the weather might be unbelievably hot. Perspiration drips down my back as I lean back into the mower's vinyl seat, but alas, the sweat is hardly worth my protective effort. The vines gleefully dig in even harder, ripping my shirt and still managing to leave red scratches along my arms. Yes, indeed. These vines really are my warm weather nemesis.

And they are invasive! They have no business growing here in the creek valley. They hail from Asia and were introduced on our side of the world because of their ability to form living fences and assist with hillside erosion control. It appears that their red hips, abundant in the fall, are loved by birds, who have unwittingly spread them far and wide. Sadly, multiflora rose has the wicked ability to smother its neighboring native plants. They take root easily, spread quickly, and take over the fields and woodland edges where birds have dropped their seeds, and once a multiflora rose seed has taken root, it quickly grows into a dense, impenetrable thicket, with arching bloodthirsty canes, enticingly decorated with small white flowers in the spring, and bright red hips in the winter.

I began to wonder, though, if the honey bees enjoy their sweet white flowers, perhaps I could also dine on the multiflora rose. Indeed, I can. Jam, jelly, and syrup can all be made from their rose hips. The hips are high in Vitamin C and have a tangy, and slightly apple-like flavor when cooked, but because the hips are small, and it is difficult to remove the seeds, it is best to boil the hips in large batches until they have softened, and then pass them through a sieve or food mill to remove the seeds. To make a jam or jelly simply follow a typical jam or jelly recipe from this point forward.

I now imagine that even though I may fight the vines all summer long, at least I can dream of gathering the hips in the fall, and then I will make some fine multiflora rose jam to spread across my toast. 

Indeed, I might just get the best of my archenemy after all.