The weeds are back

I can honestly say I have neglected my garden for the last few months. Well, it has been winter, and wet, and nothing much has happened. But something HAS happened behind my back while I have been sipping tea on a wet afternoon watching ‘Countdown’ (or whatever).

The weeds are back. Oh yes. Turned my back for a while and they have sneakily crept back into my neck of the woods, and are doing their best to take over again. They are very green and healthy-looking, and have been greedily sucking up all the rain, and sprouting forth in gay abandon.

Revenge time

Last week, I decided it was time for revenge. Armed with my trusty trowel, and my last pair of half decent gardening gloves (the rest are fingerless, courtesy of my dogs in their search for something to destroy), I wanted to deal with them in a non-chemical fashion. I set off to rip up a few weeds by their little roots, or at very least tear the heads off a few dandelions. Some weeds came willingly, others have dug deep and needed some persuasion to give up their hold. Some had boldly started flowering, probably hoping to lure some pollinators in to help spread their offspring around.

But I never made it. On my way down the garden, I found moss has taken over the cracks in the brick paving, and it you get down low and look sideways, it looks like a forest of tiny bonsai trees are taking over. So I stop, and take a survey. Where to go first? Dandelions or moss? Stray grass seeds outside, or something I don’t recognise rubbing shoulders with the moss?

Revenge was sweet

Well, the paving was my choice, as I my fingers wouldn’t get wet and green-stained where the gloves had holes (thanks dogs), and revenge was sweet indeed, at least for the first day or two. I can’t kneel as I haven’t got knees (well, not real ones), so I have to bend over, so there I was, with my rear end pointing skywards, scraping with an old knife and the trusty trowel, and had cleared quite a patch, and I felt proud.

Come the third day, my rear end told me in no uncertain terms that I am not as young and supple in the muscle department as in past years, and I noticed my right ‘gluteal maximus’ (butt cheek for the uninformed) was protesting. To the extent that sitting down was probably even worse than standing up, and to this day, the weeding has been put on hold. Miserably, I can’t even enjoy looking out on a weed-free garden, let alone sit down with a cup of tea while doing it.

There are apparently three gluteal muscles – the gluteus medius muscle on the side of the hip, and underneath your main buttock muscle, the gluteus maximus. The third muscle is the gluteus minimus muscle, which works with the other two to control all the movements of your hips.

Well, hello, they have all been chatting together and have decided to disable me. The gluteus medius is the muscle that is supposed to keep you level when you walk, but it has decided to make me limp. It is supposed to allowed you to lift your leg to the side, and I can’t. The others are on sympathy strike, and while I patiently count down the days of taking painkillers and some gentle stretching (thanks, Dr Google), the weeds have collectively taken advantage of my absence, and are now taller and stronger than ever.

Ace up my sleeve

But (pardon the pun), I have an ace up my sleeve. I won’t be like this forever, and the summer sun will dry them up sooner or later. Weeding has taught me the root of patience, and a weed free garden is my aim. Whether they like it or not, when it comes to weeding, I’m The Blade Runner. A Knotweed Ninja. A human Weed-Wacker. I will not have my patch marred by pesky weeds. It will just take me longer to get a grip on them.

Marilyn writes regularly for The Portugal News, and has lived in the Algarve for some years. A dog-lover, she has lived in Ireland, UK, Bermuda and the Isle of Man. 

Marilyn Sheridan