A Thorny Issue
Something has been bothering me in the mornings. Not the sun streaming through the bedroom window at five o'clock, nor the slightly alarming fact that I'm already awake and bouncing towards the window announcing, "Ooh... it's sunny!" - I've been doing that rather a lot since May!
It's the brambles. Stupid brambles, with their stupid thorns and their stupid habit of appearing exactly where you don't want them. Then there are their bracken mates, their stupid, growth inhibitor spreading, bracken mates. The botanical Mafia; which has spent the summer quietly taking over while everything else has been distracted by the drought.
Every morning, before work, I've wandered (aimlessly as a cloud) around Ludshott Common, Waggoners Wells, the Devil's Punch Bowl, Hindhead Common and Swan Barn Farm. I walk very fast indeed. Everywhere I've gone I've found exactly the same thing: rampant brambles, growing before my eyes, absolutely groaning with fruit and bracken that seems to double in size every night - a Triffid invasion.
At first I wondered whether I'd imagined it. Perhaps I'd simply never paid much attention before. But after seeing exactly the same thing in five completely different places over several weeks, I'm convinced something rather unusual has happened this summer.
It seems completely back to front. Lawns have turned brown, young trees have been shedding leaves for weeks and plenty of garden plants are simply hanging on until the rain returns. Meanwhile these swine appear to have looked at the drought and quietly whispered...... "Splendid."
How Can That Be?
How can two of Britain's most wretched plants be thriving during one of the driest summers in recent memory? Have they somehow learnt how to live off dust and oven-ready temperatures or are they simply showing off - taunting me?
The answer, rather annoyingly, is that they're very well built for exactly this sort of thing.
While many of our favourite garden plants rely on moisture in the top few inches of soil, established brambles and bracken have spent years quietly sneaking around beneath the surface. Their root systems spread astonishing distances and can still find moisture long after everything else has turned to custard.
In other words, while everything else has been worrying about the drought, these feral vermin have been having the summer of their lives and as everything else recedes, they are only getting stronger.
Good News... Until They Arrive in Your Garden
Out on Hindhead Common, none of this is really a problem. Brambles belong there. So does bracken. They provide food, shelter and nesting sites for birds, insects and countless other creatures. Some say that over the years they potentially improve poor soil by encouraging fungi and aerating the soil (I don't believe this is relevant, as given enough time, almost anything organic will improve the soil). Left to themselves they're simply doing what they've been doing for thousands of years.
The trouble starts when they wander through the garden gate. A single bramble shoot soon becomes half a dozen, happily weaving through shrubs, climbing fences and disappearing into hedges before bursting out somewhere completely unexpected. Bracken is no better. It doesn't ask permission, it simply keeps coming until suddenly it seems Warner Bros have rebuilt Jurassic Park at the bottom of your garden.
Some kindly fools might try to persuade you that no plants are evil. I disagree and it seems I have a powerful ally - Luke 6:44, (I paraphrase) Jesus says don't be like brambles (he doesn't mention bracken but it obviously guilt by association), they are corrupt and bad - if I am completely honest I didn't see that coming but it's good to have backup. However, brambles and bracken know exactly what they're doing. Give them half a chance and they'll take the light, the space, the moisture and eventually the entire garden, leaving the plants you actually wanted effectively turfed out.
The Small Advantage
The good news is that this August gives us one small unexpected advantage. The ground is now so dry that stubborn roots are often easier to find, easier to expose and, more importantly, easier to pull out and remove properly - especially in the local sandy conditions. It isn't pleasant work, but it is remarkably effective. However there is tremendous joy to be had piling them up and watching them dry out and die, ready for a big beautiful autumnal cremation.
There's another reason not to wait. At some point the rain will return, and when it does the countryside and our gardens are going to throw one enormous party (no invitations necessary) before autumn arrives. Lawns will green up, shrubs will put on a final burst of growth and borders will suddenly remember what they're supposed to look like.
The question is, who do you want to dance with come the rain? The flowers and shrubs you've spent years nurturing, or a gang of cuckoos who've spent the summer quietly pushing everyone else out of the nest? If they're still in charge when the rain comes, they'll be first onto the dance floor.
The answer isn't always brute force. Sometimes it's careful removal, sometimes it's digging out the roots and sometimes a carefully targeted systemic weedkiller is the better option. Think of it as calling in the SAS. Applied carefully by someone who knows what they're doing, it quietly travels down into the root system and dismantles the operation from the inside, while the innocent bystanders remain unharmed.
The Denouement
Which brings me back to those early morning walks. I still enjoy seeing brambles heaving with delicious free blackberries on the commons, and great swathes of bracken have a wild beauty all of their own. They belong there.
In my garden, however, they can politely clear off.
If a corner of your garden is beginning to disappear beneath brambles, bracken or other unwanted growth, now is one of the best times of year to reclaim it. We'd be delighted to tackle the hot, thorny, itchy, thoroughly unpleasant bit, leaving you free to choose your outfit and get ready for dancing in the rain.
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