But I did prune/lop/saw the one side of bamboo. It’s been turned into a bundle of cane, which I will now make into an Japanese-style fence. The actual process of cutting it all down wasn’t that hard. On the bigger culms I had to use my bow saw. My next step will be to make clean cuts on the canes and take an inventory of how many I have, and their sizes, then design my chunk of fence.

The space is now completely bare, and looks like a naked mole rat. It’s sad. I had grown so fond of looking out a back window and seeing that thick green jungle that blew with such magnificence in the wind. The other side is still there, though.

From the point of view of the bamboo purist, I’ll be going about this the wrong way.

First, I’m using mostly cane that is new, from this spring. So it’s only two months old. The “rule” is to use cane that is three years old or beyond, because it’s had more time to toughen. But since this bamboo had to come down, the choice is use it or lose it, and I can’t bear to lose it. I realize it may not last twenty years, but if I get three to five out of it, I’ll consider it a success.

Second, it should really be properly cured, but I’m going to use it green and allow it to cure naturally. It will be an interesting process to watch. As it is, this cane seems pretty tough anyway, tough enough to make a fence section.

I hope to build it, or at least start on it, this weekend. Then I’ll transplant a lot of hummingbird vine starts, and by midsummer, it could be beautiful. It’s one of those things that you envision, but you don’t know whether it’s going to be pleasing or not until you actually do it.

I almost said HOW DARE YOU, but held my tongue. I politely said “I hope it will be okay…we’ll see.”

In early spring 2006 I began to see little shoots popping up. My bamboo LIVED and made babies! I was over the moon.

My neighbor came over and said “What is that? Are you growing asparagus?”

Indeed, the shoots looked like asparagus (and that’s how they tasted when we ate some two years later). I said “No, that’s my bamboo sending out shoots.” I’m not sure she really understood what bamboo was. That’s something they grow in China, right?

Those shoots turned into pretty little bamboos, all leafed out. How I loved to look out the window during a thunderstorm and watch the bamboo waving in the wind, so strong and a beautiful green.

The saying about bamboo goes: First year sleep, second year creep, third year leap. I had no idea just how it would leap.

More shoots emerged in spring 2007, but this time, the mother (that first tiny transplant is “The Mother”) sent out some rhizomes (the root things that are very shallow and like ropes if you pull them up) in a new direction. I hadn’t known what I was doing when I planted the mother, and every year I seem to expand my vegetable garden. My garden collided with the bamboo. The new growth was at a right angle from the original growth. I basically had a right corner at the very edges of my garden.

It was cool looking, but as the bamboo grew, it began to create too much shade on one end of the garden. I was conflicted about what to do. I couldn’t just pull up all of the new growth – it was finally leaping and I wanted the leap. So I decided to let it grow until fall, when I planned to relocate that line at the end of the garden. My plan was to dig it up, still attached to the mother plant, and walk it 90 degrees so that my grove would be one straight line.

In the meantime, the bamboo just thrived in 2007 and sometimes I would just stare at it and smile. I’ve always loved the look of bamboo, but I had no idea how in love I would fall with the species. Madly! Many boo lovers start off this way, one little plant and then they become addicts.

In fall, I didn’t get the bamboo moved as planned, so postponed my plan til spring of 08. In early spring, it began to shoot again….like mad. I had not followed the number one rule of growing a running bamboo: make a yearly commitment to maintenance and trim any wayward rhizomes. This is a mistake I’ll not make again.

There were so many shoots, I knew it was not practical to save them. So we ate some:

It tasted like asparagus, and was just okay. It was nothing like the kind of bamboo shoots you get in a can or in an Asian dish. Those are kind of chewy and crunchy. These were soft and tender (I did boil them, per instructions). They were also a LOT of work getting the husks off. It was fun, but I doubt we’ll do that again. The window of edibility is short and comes at a time in spring where I’m rushing around trying to get gardens prepped.

I broke off most of the shoots – they snap right off quite easily, and then pulled up many rhizomes. If you do it when they’re young like that, it’s pretty easy work. The rhizomes just pull out of the ground.

I estimate that I destroyed about 80 percent of the new crop. But that 20 percent I didn’t destroy has turned HUGE. Talk about a growth spurt. It is GORGEOUS and upwards of 15 feet high. Lush and thick, just too pretty for words.

Unfortunately, I’m going to have to cut it down. I’ll leave the bamboo that is growing the direction I want, in line with lattice that I put up. But all of the bamboo that grew when the mother sent rhizomes to the north edge of my garden is going to have to be cut down. I tried very hard, but digging it up and walking it to a better space just didn’t happen. I’m afraid I needed a small bulldozer.

I did manage to dig up four transplants that are very tall, but very spindly. Those will be four new mothers, and I hope they’ll send their growth in the proper direction.

I’m so sorry to lose so much of my grove, but there’s really no other choice. It’s growing into the vegetable garden, in fact creating a beautiful canopy. It looks great, but that’s not conducive to the sunlight my vegetables need.

The good news is that I have a new plan, and that is to harvest the cane. I’m planning on making an Asian-style green fence, not curing it. I know this violates “the rules” of proper bambooery, but the green cane is pretty and will cure in its own way. It may not last the decades it would if I cured it properly, but I think it will provide just fine.

It’s bittersweet. I love my bamboo so very much, almost like a pet. And in fact, one of our cats loves to lie under the bamboo and pretend he’s the King of Egypt.

My bamboo started as one tiny plant, chopped out of a relative’s grove. Two years later it really took off, but it sent out a rhizome at an angle, taking a 90 degree turn. It was as if the bamboo had a brain, and formed a beautiful border along the northern edge of my vegetable garden. In hindsight, I didn’t choose the best place to start the bamboo, but you learn as you go. As that line of boo grew, it became obvious that wasn’t going to work well, because it created shade on the northern part of the garden.

I planned to dig the line up in fall (2007) and walk it 90 degrees north, leaving it attached to the mother, and having a straight line of bamboo. It was partially to be a nice, lush privacy screen from one of my neighbors. I don’t like to complain because she’s really one of the best neighbors ever, but she’s also very nosy and constantly comes over to gossip the minute I’m out back. Where I’m from, you have to be careful about putting up big privacy fences unless you don’t care about neighbor relations. It can mean a big FU, and I want to stay on her good side. It’s complicated.

So the idea was that the bamboo would do the job more gradually – and perhaps be more subtle – than putting up a big fence. But boo can have a mind of its own and it took that left turn. When fall came, and I’d planned to relocate the line, other things took precedence and I didn’t get it done.

And then in spring, the bamboo shoots, and that’s not a good time to move it. Actually, I should have ripped out the new shooting (and I did remove about 80 percent at the time of shooting), but I have a hard time letting my baby boo go. I love it so much. So I let about 20 percent continue, thinking I would dig it up and walk that line into place.

Ouch. I got the trench dug where I planned to move it, and began to dig up the bamboo, which was now well over ten feet high (perhaps 15+ feet in some cases). It was like I hit solid rock. I worked all afternoon yesterday and made no progress at all. So my great idea of just “walking” my line of bamboo isn’t practical without many burly men or some kind of big machinery.

In the end, I was able to chop out four culms with rhizome chunk, and moved them into the trench. I positioned the rhizome in the direction I’m hoping new growth will go. Supposedly this is kind of how it works, although it can also send new ones out anywhere I guess.

Tomorrow I’m going to cut down the rest of that huge line. I’m saddened about it, because it is just spectacular and I’m so in love with it all, but it’s either that area of bamboo or my vegetable garden, and the garden wins. It’s not like I’m cutting down all my bamboo, but it still hurts.

However…I’m going to harvest many of the culms and build a Japanese-style fence. I may even make some bamboo windchimes later in the season. So that helps the heartbreak, being able to use the canes. I’ve seen some BEAUTIFUL fence designs. Then my plan is to install fencing at the trench (which I’ve now backfilled with pure compost to help those four guys get off to good starts), partially as some support for the transplants. They’re very tall and spindly and need some support. After that, I’ll transplant a lot of hummingbird vine into the trench. That is another plant favorite, and it will climb the fence, and the bamboo (if I let it), then bloom beautifully until frost.

This is either going to be phenomenal or totally idiotic.

I’ll report back mid-summer.

The rule on running bamboo is that you must keep up with it. Every year (fall is best) you should make it part of your fall chores and check for runners, then clip and pull them up. Before they have a chance to spread twenty feet to make lots of babies in spring.

Well, as it turns out, I just didn’t get it done last fall. I have an excuse, but the bamboo doesn’t care. And now it’s spread all over the place…and many have headed for the compost pile. Why not? That’s good eatin for any plant that can find its way.

I knew this had happened, because I saw some of the roots (rhizomes actually). They’re very shallow rooted and in places pop out of the ground for a foot or so. That is helpful in seeing where they’ve gone. You clip at the mother, then pull it up like a rope….to the end. Most of them pull right up, but some of them are TOUGH. I pulled out a few today – in between other, less fun, chores – and a couple of them were hard to get.

The shoots are coming up quickly, and if I don’t get this all done in the next few days, I’ll have shoots that are a foot and a half tall. I swear these shoots grow a foot a day. It’s too bad I don’t know anyone who wants bamboo because I could give them a nice starter grove.

A friend, when I was describing this to her, asked what I would do if I ever moved. I said the right thing to do would be to dig ALL of my bamboo up and either move it to the new place, or dispose of it. It would be a terrible thing to just move away and let that bamboo go. In two years, it would move into neighbor yards and they wouldn’t know what the heck hit them.

Most people are scared of running bamboos because it DOES take a commitment to keep it from becoming invasive. But if you can make that annual commitment (or are willing to do some extra work in spring, like I must do now), you can keep it under control and have the most rewarding, beautiful bamboo. I LOVE my boo!

It hurts to pull up my runners because part of me just wants to plant bamboo everywhere and live in a bamboo forest. (With a panda of course. I love pandas too.) But I must because there are several runners in my vegetable garden now. That’s not a good thing.

Now I’ve got to find a recipe of some kind and figure out how to eat these. Supposedly my species of boo has the most tasty of shoots.