Whilst up to my elbows in nettles, and not for the first time, I found myself playing a sort of Top Trumps in my head. The game being between the plants in the garden that had rapidly become my least favourite.
Having moved into our new house last year, it is only recently that I have been trying to gain some control over the large garden that I feel had been left by the previous owner to run riot for quite some time.
There are areas that have been relatively easy to salvage but equally there are parts that have become so overrun that that they are proving quite the battle. I comfort myself with the thought that while they are wild and not the most attractive to us humans, at least they will be a good home for all sorts of bugs and beasties.
It quickly became apparent who were my arch nemeses and in no particular order they are: brambles, ivy, nettles, hawthorn, berberis and holly.
Now, of course, I don’t actually believe that any plant is inherently evil but there have been times when, prickled, scratched and stung once too often, I could almost believe that there was some kind of insidious attack plan against my person held by these species. Which is my least favourite seems to entirely depend on which one has made me swear the most that day.
Brambles, hawthorn, berberis and holly are notable for their skin piercing qualities and I think from my close encounters I find the Berberis the most painful. (I was shocked to find, when perusing the aisles of a garden department, small berberis plants sitting innocently for sale without so much as a mention of their spiky danger. I can’t help feeling these plants should come with a warning and perhaps a stipulation to only be planted where no human will ever want to go.) I have to confess, pretty flowers and leaves aside, these were earmarked as ‘to go’ before we had even moved in. Currently the stump of one (after very careful and yet sweary and painful removal) has been covered by carpet and rocks – which small cat has rather taken to as his outdoor comfy spot.
For sheer garden domination it comes down to the ivy and brambles (although there are places the nettles are having a good go at spreading themselves). I have come across some of the biggest legs of bramble I have ever seen – many metres in length. Not only do they send their limbs way up to tangle in trees but where they set down again they re-root themselves before heading off once more underground and back up.
The ivy, although possibly covering larger areas with its myriad shoots tangling above and below the earth and entwining up and into everything it encounters – at least does not hurt. So despite pulling out armful after armful of ivy, I think the brambles win this category.
The hawthorn I don’t actually mind – as hedging. It is the unexpected and frequent appearances that pop up here and there that can give quite a stab. The holly is easily workable where you can see it, but again it is the unseen surprise that gets you; old, discarded leaves hidden amongst the undergrowth and leaf litter.
The nettles are mostly a pain just for how quickly they grow – and how tall! They are actually quite easy to dig up by the roots and I have discovered there are more types of nettle than I previously knew of. We have the standard green which gives an almighty sting from fresh new leaves, and yet others that must be more docile as they don’t appear to sting at all (either that or I have become so used to the stab from everything else I just don’t feel them). We have the good old purple dead nettles that I leave for the bees and after a quick look on the internet I realise we have yellow dead nettles too – rather wonderfully also known as Archangels in the herbalist world.
But I feel I should acknowledge the upsides of some of these too. Having far too much to do last year when first moved in, we let the brambles be as they were at least yielding the opportunity to go brambling* in our own back garden – indeed we are currently eating jam made from some of the blackberries that I picked last year.
*Brambling, a term my fiancé uses to refer to ramblers picking blackberries.
The nettles I am planning to have a go at drying and making into tea. The holly will make a nice decoration at Christmas and despite believing that they ought to be cordoned off with multiple warning signs and perhaps a klaxon when getting too close, the Berberis was at least pretty.
Nothing in nature is inherently bad – I just don’t want everything that’s there in such abundance and so I shall continue to don at least one pair of thorn proof gloves (although I have not yet found a pair that actually are – insert Berberis swear and rant here) and continue to rein some of it in a little.
And my post gardening ritual shall continue: a cup of tea accompanied by plaster tape, a needle, antiseptic cream and tweezers for quiet contemplation and the de-thorning of hands. And arms. And legs.
