I have a love/hate relationship with weeds. I find some of them absolutely fascinating, and quite frankly, any plant that has the audacity and strength of will to grow out of a crack in the footpath really deserves a round of applause. And some of them are quite lovely. To my eye, there is nothing more free and beautiful than a wild meadow full of flowers and grasses undulating in the breeze. I see great beauty, and others see a field of evil.
I have a book on weeds that I picked up at our local Salvos for $3. It’s a bit dry as I think it was designed to be a text for agricultural students, and the authors are quite dismissive of the average joe gardener.
“To the home gardener, any plants which volunteer between his neat rows of vegetables or around the bases of his standard roses are weeds” *
Messieurs Lamp and Collet obviously believe the home gardener is an obsessive pedant fixated on one particular type of flora, which the weed boys, naturally, are not.
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