DANDELIONS

I hate dandelions. This is not a love-hate relationship combined with a bit of mutual respect, a la mole, this is a pure, unadulterated, unmitigated, one-way, vitriolic hatred. They are ugly little buggers to start with. And then they have this humungously large root that burrows down into the soil. If you try and pull them out by the leaves, the root usually snaps, which means that the wretched thing is ready to start growing again next year.

My mother-in-law is the only person I know who both lives in a rural area (and so is prone to invasion by flying dandelion seeds), and yet has almost no dandelions on her immaculately tended lawn. When I asked her how she did it, she told me that it was a combination of eternal vigil, and the use of an ingenious little tool, that manages to pull the dandelions out, roots and all. Said tool promptly went to the top of my birthday wish list, and duly arrived in wrapping paper on 5 July this year.

It looks a bit like a walking stick with a piano pedal attached to the foot. At the bottom of the stick are four claws, which are open, and which you stick into the grass around the head of the forthcoming dandelion victim. When you then press down on the pedal with your foot, the claws (which are serrated) close together and grip the weed's root. You then lever the claws out of the ground, hopefully trailing a long root behind them.

It was a sunny day today, so time for some serious dandelion genocide. During the space of a couple of hours, I managed to fill the wheelbarrow twice. I know that this is definitely a long-term project, but I have made a good start. And my mother-in-law will be pleased.

Walter Blotscher