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end bluntly and abruptly a yard or so away. One settles
for a sharp pull now and a deep dig in autumn.
There is little space left to deal with ay ultimate weed,
Aegopodium podagraria, alias Bishop's Weed, Gout Weed, or
Ground Elder. The Romans are accused of introducing it
as a potherb, no doubt as an antidote to follow sessions
of bibulosity. My garden was glebe land until the 1930's,
and judged according to the healthy state of this Umbellifer,
must haue been the site of an episcopal see at least. There
is certainly no trace of such in local archives, and it
seems more likely that somewhere beneath that knotted,
uncharted, brittle entanglement of roots I shall one day
uncover a hypocaust, or even a mosaic pavement depicting
Roman kitchen slaves elegantly casting herbal sprigs into
a steaming cauldron. Meanwhile, I can report that I have
tried eating my way through the spring flush of leaves, but,
the flavour being distinctly insipid, it is not easy to
persevere to the point of extinction.
So many elusive tricks and variations did the plant produce
in defiance of me that I became convinced that I must be
almost unique in accumulated knowledge of it, and even
thought in terms of publishing a slender volume "A Radicula
of Aegopodium podagraria". Realising it was more likely
to end up as a Ridicula, the idea faded, but not my
determination to win. I knew I was not alone, for a near
neighbour, similarly afflicted, began to show clear signs
of neurotic stress recklessly casting about him with a tin
of sodium chlorate, with disastrous results. He left the
district shortly after, but I know for certain that Ground
Elder still keeps his memory green in that garden.
Surprisingly enough I am convinced of victory, possibly
even before the 1990's. I have dug out every plant and
shrub even winkling out the last half inch of root from
over-developed slabby islands of Michaelmas Daisy. The
flower beds have certainly improved, but of course those
fresh green unmistakable leaves still appear. Yet they
are visibly shaken, for they are beginning to retreat
beneath the lawn which in earlier years they never dared
to touch. In 1980 my repeated summer sallies produced beds