People told me that I wasn't finished with 'em, but I laughed. Sure enough, the very next week, they were back. And they brought friends. I watched 'em, got descriptions, looked up their rap sheets. Put names with faces: Stellaria, Oxalix, Duchesnia, Taraxacum--you might know 'em by their aliases: Chickweed, Wood Sorrel, Indian Strawberry, Dandelion.
I'd have liked to drop in a little poison on 'em, but I got too many buddies in the neighborhood, little guys who aren't as tough, see, and I was scared that stuff might hurt 'em. Those chemicals are bad business. What I needed was a friend who was as mean as those dudes. And I had one.
His name's Achillea millefolium, but he goes by Yarrow, and he's as tough as they come. Don't let those pretty little flowers and feathery foilage fool you. You got weeds comin' into your bed? Station Mr. Yarrow there, maybe 6 inches apart, and let him do his job. He don't complain about conditions, see. Hot sun, bad dirt, dry weather, he don't care. An old-fashioned, blue-collar guy. Only complaint you might have is that he does his job too good. He'll take over, if you know what I mean. But that's why I like him; he don't give the weeds any elbow room.
He's even moving in on the lawn's territory. I told the boss I was gonna till up the whole lawn and plant it full of yarrow, like a meadow. (She's pro-lawn, I ain't, so I like to rattle her cage every so often and leave anti-lawn posts from Garden Rant up on the computer.) She muttered something about a divorce lawyer....I tell ya', she's got a future in stand-up. Still, I'd like to see a yard full of yarrow in the summertime. Think of the butterflies you'd have!
So if you need a good sun plant who ain't too picky about "conditions," Yarrow's your man. Tell him David sent ya'.
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