This Queen Anne’s lace look-alike has ravaged portions of this columnist’s yard. (Photo provided)

Native vs. invasive is a necessary conversation as I continue to eliminate the bishop’s weed from the side of my yard. This look-alike, Queen Anne’s lace, came out of nowhere.

It can’t have the common courtesy to plant itself in an easily accessible location. It worms its way through all the native plants I’ve strategically placed throughout my garden.

The hardy bishop’s weed has many aliases such as goutweed, goat’s weed, ground elder, or snow in the mountain. Through research and fellow gardeners’ exasperation, I’m told the only way to rid my yard of bishop’s weed naturally is to carefully dig it, cover it, or eat it.

Yes, indeed. If you can’t beat it, eat it. (I know I’m preaching to the choir, but this needs to be addressed. Please don’t just eat random items from your yard, a neighbor’s yard, or other woodland places.)

One reason this weed is a nuisance is it takes over the naturalized plants by choking them out with a blanket of its rhizome “runners.” Yes, a lot of frustrated gardening, “potting soil” kind of words are coming out of my mouth as I cover one section of my yard with plastic garbage bags.

The other area this pesky plant holds hostage is in front of my house. Since I’m not going to sacrifice my raspberry patch, I dig around the existing plant. It sounds as tedious as it is. I carefully sift through the good plants and the evil interloper.

If this is a chess match, the bishop’s weed is always two moves ahead, planning my surrender. My children give up on Project Eradication, or as they call it, bishop’s weeding. They do have plenty of suggestions. Don’t worry. They already helped, whether they know it or not. They may not be pulling the weeds, but a few handfuls of new leaves have already graced our summer salads. I find it has a mild celery taste, but other people say it has a cilantro aftertaste.

After researching and talking to plant experts, I’m going to stick to smothering this particular plant. It’s less stressful. When I reach a stopping point, my child casually comments from the porch rocker, “It seems pointless. Isn’t there a field of that stuff around the corner?” A lot of phrases go through my head, but I speak the words that matter. “Just finish your salad.”