I want buns of steel. Sadly, I also need buns with jammy cream filling, icing and sprinkles on top. Time to eliminate those surplus calories with outdoor callisthenics. Let’s start with the annual weeds which are currently flowering, to be followed in short order by their progeny. Grub them out now or be prepared to be subsumed. Different soil conditions encourage diverse bastards, sorry, wild plants. In my sand I get a lot of chickweed, goose grass and shepherd’s purse. Some years this mixture is enlivened with fumitory and groundsel. If you catch them early enough, any of these may be hoed off and composted. Best not to cram the heap with seeds, as the sods will get a good start with all of that goodness available.
Mathiasella bupleuroides “Green Dream”
I run a three bay system for compost, as in this year, next year, sometime. The festering waste gets turned for oxygenation as it moves towards its final destination, by which time there is a queue of more mouldering greenery behind it and it’s going on the garden, ready or not. I’ve given up bed time stories and other verbal encouragement for the rot to set in, as neighbours are spreading vile rumours, most of them true. Although covered with carpet, peppered with activator and given a dash of piddle and cat poop, my mound never steams and it is that heat which sterilises the soil.
Prunus (plum) & Euphorbia amygdaloides var. robbiae (Mrs Robb’s bonnet)
Perennial weeds are a different prospect. Dandelions will grow from the tiniest shred of root left behind after the most determined thrashing session. Ground elder is a heartbreaker that I’m still fighting after thirteen years of trench warfare. I made the mistake of introducing a single plant of borage and now I am infested with the brutes. I send every bit of all of these that I drag from the ground to the local council to recycle. I also pass on the thicker woody twigs and sticks for industrial attention. They turn their mountains with bulldozers and I believe, cook eggs in the stuff, as it gets so hot. Don’t quote me on that one.
Primula auricula “Dark Eyes”
I’m allergic to extreme physical effort. I don’t care for Pilates or going to the gym, seeing this as so much wasted energy. Were it possible to wire up a giant hamster wheel to the house and power the dishwasher, I would consider it, if only briefly. Since I am sick of the futile pursuit of gout wort, I shall be painting systemic herbicide on the leaves. Other people will be checking the DIY stores for comfy deckchairs and beer coolers, while I’m scouring the shelves for Murder Death Kill. During a sunny session yesterday, I snatched as many undesirables from the beds as I could manage. I finished the job gasping, wheezing, trembling and unstable. While I pottered about in a Brownian manner, Attila planted the Dahlias and anointed them with nutrition from the bins. I would have taken a week to achieve so much. The man is off the chain; give the boy a biscuit.