nature’s equivalent of children in the house is weeds in the greenhouse.
Nature’s equivalent of children in the house is weeds in the greenhouse. When I first got my little garden set up it wasn’t so bad; a few weeds here, a few blades of grass there. Then, with the spike of heat, humidity, and UV rays, they grew faster than the national debt.
I ignored them.
They grew more.
Like the national debt.
Occasionally, from the corner of my eye, I would swear they moved on their own. In the back of my mind, I considered something was lurking inside of them—gigantic hornworm, maybe. I continued to ignore the problem. They continued to grow. You see the pattern and the result in the photo above.
Finally, I accepted that I needed to clean things up before things got out of control. If the weeds started to take over and covered the entire floor of the greenhouse, I’d never go in there, and my plants would die—which would be better for the plants; a quick death versus being forced to be kept alive and slowly dying over time by my horticultural incompetence.
I thought about using a weed whacker because it would have saved me a ton of time. I pictured myself standing in the overgrown grass like Sigourney Weaver in the movie Alien, with a flamethrower in hand, ready to mow down the enemy. But, when I saw the sticker on the side that had actual 9-1-1 instructions, I decided maybe it was better to do things the old fashioned way, where my only potential hazard was passing out from heat exhaustion—because the temperatures in the greenhouse are 400 degrees hotter than a day on Mercury.
So, I spent the entire day weeding and didn’t even come close to getting everything. Still, it was a big improvement. I could now see the spiders crawling around the ground instead of watching the long blades of grass move by themselves and wonder if it was a breeze or a snake.
When I was done, I considered laying down some of that flimsy weed paper to keep the ground clear, and not have to weed my way through the summer. I know that most greenhouses have pea gravel for a floor, or, at the very least stepping stones. As you can see, my greenhouse is kind of a piece of garbage, so the investment into a pea gravel floor would have cost more than the entire structure, plus the plants I’m killing. It also would have looked nicer than the greenhouse and the plants combined. The weed paper was ghetto enough to fit right in with the rest of my garden, but the issue was the very real possibility of me tripping on it and needing twelve stitches from landing on my hand weeder face down. I’d have to go to the ER with aphids in my hair and explain how this happened.
Besides, as long as I was home and in there multiple times a day, there wasn’t much of a weeding issue. I was walking around in there and able to pull as needed. The issue would be when I left on vacation.
While I was gone, growth in my garden definitely did not fail me. The weeds did much better than the plants, and, as you can see, I’ve got quite a project ahead of me.
My choices now are to:
- pull the weeds.
- ignore them, because October is right around the corner, according to Hobby Lobby and Costco.
- light the weeds on fire.
- light the entire greenhouse on fire.
- see if Sigourney Weaver will come and do it.
- offer to let her use a flamethrower.
Obviously pulling the weeds is the most practical choice since Sigourney’s agent won’t return my calls.
So, if you need me, I’ll be crawling around those two tomato plant buckets pulling on grassy things and hoping I don’t come face to face with a hornworm of any size. Or a snake. Maybe I should look on Amazon for a flamethrower, just in case. If you don’t hear from me for awhile, I may have passed out and landed on my hand weeder. When I come to, I’ll have quite the task of picking aphids out of my hair and peeling the weed paper off my skin that’s stuck to me with my own sweat from the sweltering atmosphere. I’ll wonder how I ended up on the floor, be thankful it wasn’t pea gravel, and realize that my weeds outgrew the national debt.