Save Yourselves
First published 19th August 2020
FROM: Shirley@glook.net.com
Sent 15/08/2020 19.25pm
I believed that ‘The Day of the Triffids’ was a work of fiction that was until I saw with my own eyes the shocking truth. “Triffids are real and very much alive.
So far they have consumed ¾ of my garden and very possibly Wendy my neighbour’s wife.”
Within a few minutes of reading this email I had packed my bags, made a flask of tea, grabbed a pack of wagon wheels and wrote a letter to my wife telling her
I loved her just in case I didn’t make it home before setting off.
When I arrived, the police and emergency services where already on site and I could see Huw Edward interviewing a man who I found out later was Bill about his
wife Wendy’s disappearance for the six o’clock news.
With an impending sense of dread I was led through a series of white plastic tents and tunnels until finally I was there standing in the garden in a full ET
The Extra Terrestrial chemical suit…..
Once there it was obvious to me that this was a severe Equisetum Arvense (Horsetail or Mares tail) attack. Horsetail is a deep rooted perennial weed that
spreads by spores in the spring, it can traverse large distances and its roots can reach 7ft in depth. The plant has evolved to accumulate silica from the
soil and this mutation contributes to its herbicidal resistance.
Roger a fellow gardener who was also on site suggested covering the affected areas with a weed blocking membrane. “It won’t work” I said “All you’ll do is
force the weed towards the edges of the membrane where it will continue to thrive.”
I knew it would take a long time to get the infestation under control, years in fact. A chemical treatment for the Horsetail weed is available such as SBK,
Glyphosate and products containing Pelargonic acid. However in order for the treatment to work there must be a large enough green surface area for the chemical
to be absorbed into. Spraying the weed if it’s less than 20cm tall will have no effect as not enough of the treatment will penetrate the plant.
Fortunately Shirley’s Horsetail weeds were 50cm tall; finally we had caught a break. I instructed Roger and the other expert gardeners to start trampling
the weeds under foot. Damaging the structure of the plant would help the chemical treatment be fully absorbed.
The garden would need a further treatment in October to coincide with the natural dying back cycle of the plant. A chemical spray at this point would be
transported deep down into the root structure, but this alone would not get Shirley out of the woods. Inevitably we’d have to return next year to tackle
the menace once more.
I needed to sit down, I was exhausted so I went to open my thermos flask, when I heard a creaking noise coming from the garden shed behind me.
Tentatively I opened the shed door only to find Wendy in a state of undress with Shirley’s husband Dave. Obviously they had huddled together for survival.
I offered them a restorative Wagon wheel but they declined. It’s funny really because when I went back later in the year Dave was living in the shed.
I’ve put it down to Post Traumatic Stress!
It'll cost Ya
First published 12th August 2020
I had to get up early this morning as the boiler had packed up yesterday and Will our plumber said he’d be here first thing. So with coffee in one hand and a breakfast
biscuit bar in the other I sat waiting in the kitchen for him.
Rather than just waste time I thought I better put 50p in the metre and fire up the old computer and check my emails. Ding, ding, ding, my email box was full of emails,
finally I thought, my little weekly article has garnered worldwide acclaim and I’d be answering gardening questions for important powerful people. I began dreaming of my
own television show – The Master Gardner, I’d front it obviously and Teddy my dog would run in and out of shot now and again with his cute little face, he would give the
show wider appeal.
After deleting the numerous Viagra deals and the “Very foxy lady wants to me you” emails Will appeared at the back door.
I asked him in and offered him a coffee. “Just checking your emails?” he asked to which I replied yes and I went onto explain how I write a gardening article each week.
“Oh” he said, “We have this beautiful plum tree at the bottom of the garden, it was there long before we bought the house and it’s not looking very good this year.”
Will explained that the leaves had all curled up, and the growing tips were all distorted and there was some visible blackening to the leaves.
I found myself attempting to speak tradesman at this point. “Right mate, (Will’s never been my mate) it’s Aphids pal.” “You see the aphids are feeding on the sugars in the
leaves that should be ordinarily causing the fruit to swell. The blackening to the leaves you describe is a fungus which grows on the excretion excreted by the aforementioned
Aphids.”
I said “You’ve got three options my friend, but none of them are going to be cheap.” (None of the options would be particularly expensive and one option costs nothing but at
this point I was well into character.)
“Right fella, option one, is you and the missus don your marigolds and squidge the Aphids by hand, though it won’t be pretty.”
“Option two is you go all Commando on them and hose your tree down with an organic fatty acid or oil based spray which will dislodge some of the little beggars but it’s not
going to remove those holed up inside the curled up leaves.”
“Option three Willo (I was really going for it now) is to nuke the insurgents with a systemic insecticide which’ll kill them all. You see the insecticide is absorbed by the
plant and transported around the whole tree, even the curled up leaves.”
I was now standing there in the kitchen with my legs slightly wider than normal with my thumbs tucked into the top of my jeans. All I needed I thought was a tool belt and I
could go on DIY SOS. I’d even managed to pull my jeans down just far enough so that the top of my bum was visible.
Will said “Cheers mate” mutual respect I thought. Moments later he left as he said he needed to order a new part. Chasing him out of the door I said you can have my
Screwfix catalogue if you want I’ve got a spare. He said no, Willo what a man!