(~4 minutes to read)
Rain’s stopped play in the yard, which is a good thing, because I needed to commit the following thought to paper (or hard drive).
Why is it that seeds that we plant according to instructions wither and die, but weeds that we remove from the ground with surgical thoroughness miraculously spring back to life?
The instructions on seed packets are pretty explicit. Prepare the growing medium (recipes on YouTube); plant the seeds yay deep (some might benefit from soaking overnight first); provide light of a minimum of xxx lumens for so many hours per day; ensure temperatures remain within +/- 0.22267° of Y°C; water from the bottom using room temperature filtered water seasoned with rose petals; when the first true leaves develop (the first leaves are imposters) re-pot the seedlings in… etc. etc. I’m sure you’ve done all this in the past, even if it was only with mustard and cress.
So I follow these instructions to the letter, and…
Nothing. Not a sausage. Bugger all.
I might just as well have called Elon Musk and had him drop the seeds on the dark side of the moon for me.
Weeds don’t come with detailed instructions. Neither for growing nor for destroying. Yet a piece of weed root, plucked from the ground and left in the sun for two weeks, eaten and passed through the digestive systems of an entire nest of rodents, incinerated, ground into a fine powder, and encased in concrete is guaranteed to grow and flower/seed within six weeks.
Here at the hatchery, we’re digging patches of “lawn” out and building raised beds to grow flowers and veggies in. Most of the grass that comprises our “lawn” is pretty coarse and reproduces via long white roots, which makes dandelions seem sterile by comparison. (BTW, “lawn” is in quotes because it’s unfair to call our patch of grass by the same name as the lush green growth achieved in gardens in more temperate zones and/or with truckloads of chemicals.) Therefore, in order to convert “lawn” to grass-free beds, it behoves a person (me) to remove as much of the root system as possible.
Easier said than done.
We’ve tried a number of non-chemical methods.
Two years ago we dug the grass out in clods, beat as much soil out as possible, left the remaining roots to dry, then beat the roots again. We then sieved the soil from the clods back onto the new veggie bed (to remove any remaining roots), dug the bed two spits deep, then planted carrots, beets and potatoes.
We mowed the resulting “lawn” six weeks later.
Last year, I scalped the grass with a mattock, then shallow-dug the remaining roots out. It was quicker, but there were still all kinds of roots left. We picked roots out for several days, then planted our veggies.
We mowed the resulting “lawn” six weeks later.
This year, I’m taking what I’ve learned and deploying what I like to call the “ultimate solution” (because “final solution” is already taken, and in any case, it’d be tasteless in the extreme to compare my root eradication campaign with systemic genocide.) And chemicals are now on thetable.
Here’s how it goes.
First, scalp the grass as per last year, then shallow-dig as per last year. (Done, and done.)
Next, I’ll rake and dig and pick roots out every day for a week (assuming it doesn’t snow too heavily). I’ll then leave it a week, to see what grows. If the grass comes back, I’ll try “watering” the area with bleach. Anything that’s endorsed as a cure for a coronavirus by a sitting American President must be pretty good stuff.
But assuming it doesn’t do the trick, I’ll see if I can get some Agent Orange on ebay, and carefully apply it the affected area. It’s really nasty stuff and thankfully no longer made, but I’ll bet someone somewhere is trying to unload some.
And if that doesn’t work, then I’ll ask the Air Force to napalm the new veggie beds. I realize that that’s pretty precise work for them to have to do, but with laser guiding and pinpoint GPSing and advanced computing, I’m sure they’ll manage to hit the spot.
That ought to do it.
As newbie gardeners, we’re constantly increasing our respect for farmers, and especially one hundred percent, no liberal interpretation of “organic” organic farmers.
Perhaps I should concentrate my energies on coming up with ways to cook and serve Kentucky bluegrass, crab grass and the like, and give up trying to coax regular vegetables into life. It seems that these grasses have no known predators (a bit like T Rex, meteors notwithstanding), so…
That’s it! Meteors—the ultimate predator! I should put a big sign on the new veggie beds saying, “Meteors Welcome to Land Here”.
Or maybe not.
Ah well.
Anyhoo–it’s stopped raining now, so I’ll guess I’ll pick up my boots and go back to my roots.