It may seem like a distant memory now, but we had a baking summer in London. I think we are at something like four heat waves. Since then, the temperatures have gone back to normal and we’ve begun to get some rain. But at the time I’m writing this, where I live in London we are still in an official ‘drought’ and there’s a hosepipe ban.
In the aftermath of the heat waves, the earth was scorched, the ground was bone dry with cracks in the turf. Our gardens were parched, flowers were dried up, the grass that was left was like stubble. It had become chaff. Kids playing football in the park created clouds of dust. The trees were drooping and looking forlorn and dry, longing, gasping for rain. Plants once colourful and vibrant were dried out and brittle, so thirsty for water.
The only thing that remained green was the weeds. If you had gone out into your garden in the aftermath of the heat waves and looked at your lawn, you’d have seen a brown lawn with lots of dirt patches yearning for moisture. But in the midst, there were weeds that, inexplicably, looked healthy. In oceans of brown grass were dark green weeds. On baking hot pavements there were little green weeds poking through the cracks. Flourishing among wilting plants in borders were weeds. In unwatered grass, the only thing that still kept itself green was the weeds.
When the earth is starved of rain the only thing that grows is the weeds. They look healthy. Yet, if they are allowed to remain, they will strangle the growth of good plants and eat up, ruin, and kill the grass of your lawn.
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