08 May 2013

let me spin you a yarn about grass

I had this friend a few years ago. She was a trained gardener, very generous and extremely fragile, something she tried to conceal with a cheery exterior. Our babies were born on the same day in the same hospital. While I was out one day, she popped by and left a wee plant on my doorstep, dug out of her garden. We had just moved into our house and she knew the garden was an empty wasteland. I was incredibly chuffed and planted it in one of the new beds I had created in the front. It was kind of grassy and stripy, and grew that first year into a pretty swishy clump of gauzy loveliness. That was six years ago.

Since then, she emigrated to Australia and unfriended me on Facebook. Which is OK. I'm not quite sure of the reasons for the latter, but I'm certainly not going to try and read anything into it. Like I said, she's quite sensitive and I almost certainly offended at some point. It wouldn't be the first time. And it's not like I haven't unfriended people on Facebook before (or more commonly, ignored their friend requests for, like, years.)

Anyway, six years later, and I have just spent the best part of four glorious sunny May holiday days trying to eradicate the mystery grass from our front garden. It had spread across an area of about two square metres, forming a dense mat of roots so strong I've broken several garden implements, and done something moderately worrying to my back. It's killed every plant that used to live in its orbit. My fifty beautiful pink tulips, which used to grow a foot high and stopped passers-by in the street, have been reduced to eleven slightly stunted specimens.


I've ripped up border edging, shovelled gravel, cursed, sweated, gone a bit swirly behind the eyes and had to have wee sit down, and dissected some of my more precious plants to tease out the roots of this thug. It had spread under, over, through and between everything. A quick Google search and I think I've found the name of it; variegated ribbon grass. Or bastard freaking variegated effing ribbon grass (if you happened to be within earshot).

Now I'm not sure what the moral of this story is; beware gardeners bearing gifts maybe. Especially if they flee the country and sever all ties. So listen here people, do as I say and not as I do: never ever, ever plant something called variegated ribbon grass. Don't even think about it. If it's grassy and stripy, WALK AWAY.

I know I haven't got rid of it all, it'll be back. And one of the websites I read said it could live for up to twenty years. So while she may have forgotten me, I suspect our connascent babies will have long left home before I forget her.




So that's what it's all been about round here. Beautiful sunny days and gardening. But in the evenings, as I prop my naggingly niggling lumbar discs against a pile of cushions and wait for two ibuprofen and one cold Tiger beer to work their magic, I've been knitting and reading. And like all the best knitting and reading, they're colour coordinated, natch.




Every Spring I try to read The Jewel Garden by Monty and Sarah Don. It's beautiful and inspiring and makes me excited for Summer. (As an aside, it also briefly includes the most accurate description of depression I have ever read.) On my kindle I'm also reading Flight Behaviour by Barbara Kingsolver for our book group. I'm not even going to be half way finished it by the time we meet, but it's good so far. Not a keeper, but maybe it's yet to peak.

The Varjo for my MIL's friend is really taking shape - it's beautiful. That woman is a genius designer. Did you know she has a new pattern out? I want to make it more than anything I've ever made. But the trouble is I want to make it in EXACTLY her colours. I think that pink she used is Madelinetosh Tosh Merino Light in "Pop Rocks". I searched for anywhere online that has it in stock, and eventually found one place in the States. The total bill to make this garment was going to come to $120 by the time the wool was shipped to the UK. So I guess Happy Street will have to wait!


19 comments:

  1. Oh goodness, that weed does not sound like fun!! Flax bushes are a bit the same in NZ, except they are native and the gorgeous native birds love them, but heck they are impossible to get out and once they grow they are enormous!! (and our section is covered in them, in all the wrong places!) Your shawl is looking gorgeous!

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  2. Wow, what a gift! She certainly made sure she would be remembered as a friend, if not,perhaps, fondly ;-). The shawl is beautiful, excellent work!

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  3. Oh my! What a story! Good luck with the grass. The knitting is stunning. I love the colour combination you're using!

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  4. The weeds definitely do not sound fun! I am in a constant battle with the weeds that seem to grow new in my gardens every year...that book sounds really interesting though! I typically read Animal Vegetable Miracle every spring, it gets me in the mood for summer. So I might have to try The Jewel Garden :-)

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  5. she is a genius and I love her designs for shawls. Love the colors you paired together for the shawl, looks fabulous!

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  6. we've got a similar 'present' lurking in our front flower beds....pesky invasives! It was hubby's mission (obsession) last year to eradicate it....he weeded, he round-uped, he put down black plastic, and guess what? It's b-a-a-a-c-k!!! Love the shawls!!! (hate the invasives!!)

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  7. I remember that grass {we used to call it chicken grass} from my South African garden - and yes it certainly can get out of control if left unchecked. I found that it was also a breeding ground for snails - yuck! I love your shawl that you are busy with - what an interesting shape! And I just love Monty Don and his Gardeners World program, I try never to miss it! I am always so inspired by Long Meadow - especially the jewel garden.

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  8. Oh dear, what a story! Good luck!
    I love the colors of your yarn. Isn't shipping outrageous? I hope you can find what you're looking for without breaking the bank.

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  9. Bwahahaha we have that EXACT same grass - that stuff is so freaking strong, it killed off my rosemary bush!! I totally commiserate. I am not up to the task of trying to dig mine out. :(

    Those are some pretty darn gorgeous shawls though. :) (And I know it's not exaaactly the same, but I'm a *small* small scale indie dyer, and I could dye you that day-glo pink no problem! Track down a small independent producer and smile sweetly, is always my advice!)

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  10. Oh man! I've got crab grass giving me the same problem. Lots of cursing required. Your shawl is absolutely gorgeous, I love the colors!

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  11. As requested, this is me: arwen_tiw@hotmail.co.uk <3

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  12. Oh no re. the grass. Oh yes re. the Happy Street ... a genius indeed!

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  13. Flight Behaviour is sitting on my shelf, just waiting to be read. And we've a backyard full of the spidergrass, so called because it's full of... snakes! Spreads through underground tubers, ridiculously hard to get up. I see it all the time at plant nurseries and want to scream to people, "don't take it home, it'll eat you!"

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  14. I think I was given some of that grass too! I managed to get rid of mine but it had not grown as big as yours so it was easier to do bit it did take forever, I hope your back feels better soon. Your shawl looks lovely the colours are gorgeous, as is the one you would like to make without breaking the bank.

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  15. i did see happy street, so well named! i hope you can make it one day soon!

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  16. Your current knit is just lovely,! And newest patter n added to my ever growing queue. Wishing you the very best with the invasive grass!

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  17. Oh wow, I have never seen that designer but have now bookmarked some sweaters to look at when i am ready! Beautiful shawl, love your colors!

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  18. Goodness, that grass sounds horrid – sounds like you might need gin rather than Tiger beer! The garden of the house I recently moved into is covered in… well a small jungle is probably the best way to describe it. I think we're going to have to tackle it once the weather gets better (so hopefully we can put it off until Spring…), and it looks like it's going to be just as problematic as your grass problem. I can't wait…

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  19. We had that creeping elder stuff in our garden out the road so I can empathise! Just had to sell the house and move on. ;-)

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