SHOW YOU CARE
The pace of growth in the early summer garden can come as something of a shock. May and June are prolific months in terms of the quantity of ’biomass’ (green stuff) which emerges from a patch of ground then develops into some quite amazing flowering plants. The vitality of weeds never ceases to amaze even Old Hands, with years of growing experience behind them. It is not unusual to occasionally feel overwhelmed by the regenerative power of the plot at this time of year.
Dirty Nails is no exception. This week he surveyed the scene of a wonderfully productive but recently neglected vegetable garden. In less than a month straight rows of potatoes, onions, shallots and beans had been lost in a ruck of quick growing, ground covering, ’ruderal’ weeds. Many were at the point of flowering and what comes next is thousands of seeds. Worse still, throughout this mix the strangling stems of bindweed, or ’withy-wind’, was twirling and curling wherever it could find a vegetative scaffold on which to get a hold. Even the rhubarb had been swamped and a tempting spread of strawberries, themselves flowering in advance of fruit, had become a lush carpet of green.
Dirty Nails started by reclaiming the paths, using a trowel to loosen the roots of larger flowering specimens and tease them carefully, roots and all. It was the same with the dreaded bindweed, though he never expects to extract the whole plant. Bindweed roots are phenomenal. It takes years of consistent shoot pulling to weaken the offenders to a point where one might be tempted to claim victory. Given that many weeds will ripen and distribute their seeds even after hoiking out the ground, and that mixing even tiny lengths of bindweed root in a compost heap is always a mistake, Dirty Nails resorted to flinging the lot atop a hot bonfire and letting the flames work their sanitising magic.
This was just a start. But defining clear access encourages further work. Tidy paths and edges immediately call the place to order and show to all and sundry that, at the peak of the season, someone cares.
Copyright, Joe Hashman June 2010