Editor’s Note: It’s a beautiful plant, but, oh, it causes so much misery. Read about it firsthand from a gardener at war with this beauty — and how she and her fellow warriors in an online discussion plan their battle against it.
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When my husband and I moved to our new home in southeastern Minnesota, just outside the city of Rochester, we were enchanted by the beauty of our ten-acre property. We did not suspect the evil that was lurking in the fields and gardens around us.
Our first encounter was in the long-neglected fenced garden below the house. The strawberry bed was completely overrun with weeds. My fingers recoiled from the spiky thorns all over the stems and even the edges of the leaves. “Look at this stuff!” I called over to my husband, who was bent over in the adjacent garden bed where a few feeble asparagus shoots were attempting to surface between the tall weeds. “It’s everywhere. Ouch! Blast it!”
The prickers cut through my gloves. I quickly acquired better gloves, and I learned to grasp from the base, right near the dirt, where there were fewer spiky needles along the main stalk. The next day, I discovered the weed in a flower bed. Then I found it everywhere.
I tried cultivating. The newly tilled earth was smooth, loamy, and weed free. But this weed thrived in the bare ground, and it went rampaging. If this evil had a voice, it would be loudly taunting me.
“Hey you! Betcha can’t beat me!”
In zealous pursuit, I’d yank them when the roots were loosened after heavy rains. The species became my white whale.
Nine years into my battle, I came across a group chat on social media.
Maria: Please help—how do I get rid of this (does this wickedness have a name?) It has overwhelmed my gardens (and me!). It comes back year after year and is much more aggressive and invasive this year —even after pulling/preening/mulching before it goes to seed.”
Oh, yes, indeed. I do know this wickedness. I slid down in the bed, phone in one hand, eagerly reading on.
Jonathan: “Canadian Thistle. The roots send runners up to 25 feet and one plant going to seed can make many thousand seeds. You can only eliminate by removing or killing the entire root.”
25 feet! Yes, I had read that somewhere. The plant is legendary for its root system.
Lynn: “I hate to say it but Roundup is the only way. They spread by seeds and rhizomes. That is why you find them halfway across the yard.”
Jean: “You need to use a systemic herbicide like glyphosate, 2,4-D, or Thistledown.”
Panda: “They are great food for finches and other small song birds and eventually they go where the wind blows them.”
Ralene: “I hate this thistle. It crept over from our neighbor’s fence line into our garden, and it is so hard to get rid of without chemicals. Digging it up before it goes to seed is the only option really. You have to get all the root. Any little bit left in the dirt means more thistle.”
I am enthralled. These are my people! I spend the rest of my evening reading up on Thistledown. Regrettably, it becomes clear that it is every bit as toxic as Roundup and 2,4-D.
Benton: “Canadian thistle. Not actually from Canada. Put gloves on, grab it close to the base, and hope you get the root. If the soil is wet you’re more likely to get the root. Or you can hit it with Weed-b-gone.”
My husband pops up in the chat.
Ron: “Canada thistle propagates by root and by seed. Never let it go to seed. Roundup (glyphosate) or Crossbow (2,4-D) works to kill it systemically.”
I had no idea he is as devoted as I to eradicating this plant. I love him more.
Emily: “I have this too. I very much dislike chemical applications in the garden, but from what I’ve seen it’s the only surefire way to rid your space of this nasty stuff!”
Jessica (“Rising contributor”): “You have to dig up the tap root. It’s deep and strong. I use a garden spade and loosen all 4 sides. Thistle will flower and spread like crazy. The bees love it but our fingers and toes do not.”
Ann: “I feel your pain. Those things are so evil.”
Amen sister.
Leah: “Canada thistles and they are a nightmare to get rid of.”
Right??
Darla: “Ohmygolly we have at least 12 of those in our backyard every summer, and they’re the devil.”
I love you people. Honestly. Let’s go for a thistle pull together. I’ll bring the cold beer.
Tom: “The root can get 2 feet long and you have to get all of it.”
Kathy: “Dig out and burn in pit.”
Not burn in a pit. Burn in pit. The economy of words speaks to the gravity of the matter. Spare no time, waste no words.
The next day, my resolve renewed, I toss my freshly harvested thistle atop the brush pile, which will become a bonfire on Samhain. This evil will die.
More recently, I discovered that some brave soul has found a way to cook and eat parts of the plant. I watch his step-by-step video. The leaves have to be trimmed down to the center veins, and the roots need to be boiled and simmered in oil, garlic, and spices to be palatable. It looks convincingly edible sizzling in the pan. I go out and pull up some of the larger plants that I’m sure haven’t been sprayed with Roundup and I bring them in to the kitchen sink. I wash them in cold water trying to avoid the spines. The leaves have a faint chlorophyll-like scent like grass. My husband casts a baleful look at my harvest. He retreats to another room.
“Did you know you can eat this? I’m going to give it a try!” I shout after him.
“Go right ahead. I’m not having any,” he replies jovially.
But I am too tired from gardening to cook anything, and my appetite demands more immediate sustenance. I gingerly tuck the leaves down into a lettuce keeper and stow the container away in the beer fridge. When I get the nerve, I’ll cook up some lettuce from hell.
Copyright © 2025 Katherine Geiersbach
This is a wonderful story! It resonates with so many of us.
What an awesome story, Katherine! Outstanding writing. I love how you kept us going, we readers getting pulled in more and more by each chat comment, especially when your husband joined. And your cooking attempt at the end was hilarious. I too have wrestled with Canada thistle so «I feel your pain».
Ann
Lovely to look at but a gardening nightmare, for sure! And I am with Ron, not my dish of choice.