They are in fact the nefarious garlic mustard that I have heard such nasty things about, and they are not delicate at all. I should be mercilessly and relentlessly tearing them from the earth, perhaps stomping on them for good measure, before these illegal aliens, these invasive species take over my lovely woodland natives, barging into their houses and eating up all their food.
And I will, Jess. I will. I’ll put Jeff right on that, after he pulls all the sticker-bushes out of our forsythia. (Is forsythia OK? How am I to know the good from the bad?)
Seriously, I’m not kidding around, I will protect all my spring ephemera. I’ve only just discovered them in their forest hidey-holes and I’m not letting any bullies crowd them out.
But I still think they’re pretty.
(I always did like bad boys.)