Published May 2026 on Tat London
With the Chelsea Flower Show currently gripping the capitals attention, we turn instead to Herefordshire, where Liberty is locked in battle with Ground Elder. A plant I had previously assumed was a once a great delight and instead it is a horticultural nightmare. Still, while the weed may be relentless, Liberty’s mindset is admirably sage and as ever a delight to read.
Spring In Abbey Dore By Liberty Nimmo
Somewhat predictably, this past month has been a busy time for sowing vegetables and cut flowers. ‘Tis the moment, but Spring has continued to lurch us about; it has not been particularly kind this time round. The nights have been cold and I remembered to take out insurance on my sowings in case of any potential losses. I admit that I went too soon on the Tithonia and the premium was called in but luckily, it’s not a competition.
I have been wrestling with Ground Elder – that so-called dreaded garden problem. However, rather than excavating the garden in full, I have changed the question from ‘how can I be rid of this wretched imposter?’ to ‘how can I live alongside this vigorous life-loving plant?’
Well, I do like Ground Elder, I think it tastes nice when it’s young and it has a pretty flower. I also don’t want to launch some never-ending attack on a plant which will have more determination to persevere than my terrier does with a hole. I don’t have the energy. Admittedly, total ground elder takeover is nevertheless a bit annoying. And so, I have been cutting it back to make compost teas from the leaves and this will become food for my tomatoes. I have under-planted with salads and spinach in the vain hope they might romp away and suppress the vigorous growth. I have also left patches in shady corners, dare I say it, to flourish and flower. Watch this space.
Ever the aspirational philosopher, my evolving Ground Elder management system has made me think about weeds, how we treat them and our lack of tolerance. Why are they deemed to be unwanted and who is calling the shots on this decision? I don’t particularly like the trite idiom of ‘a weed is just a plant in the wrong place’. I want all the plants in my garden to be in the place they want to be. They are all wanted. Perhaps, our dislike of imposters isn’t about the weed at all. Perhaps it is what a weed-free garden represents to the psyche; that one’s life is in order? That everything is therefore in its ‘right’ place? The neatly mown lawn suggests a mental orderliness, a regime, a place to be proud of. In contrast, perhaps the humble weed is shorthand for mess, commonness and chaos. I’m not sure why we continue to try and bring order to the natural world, why we want to tidy it up, and seemingly remain unaware that it has its own management system that is far superior to the lawn mower and the hoe.
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