Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Little Weed



When I was a little lad growing up in England in the early 1950's, one of my favorite TV programs was Bill & Ben The Flower Pot Men. This was in the classic days of television, before color ruined everything and things started going downhill all the way to Tom DeLay on Dancing With The Stars.

The real star of Flower Pot Men was, of course, not Bill or Ben, but the much more complex and interesting character Little Weed. I always had a soft spot for Little Weed. I don't know how she tolerated for so long those idiots Bill and Ben talking in that ridiculous Oddle Poddle language.

Perhaps my youthful fondness for Little Weed is responsible for my attitude to weeds now. At the side of my house for the last two years I have been cultivating an amazing garden of American native wildflowers. People come and look at it and say, "What are all those weeds doing there?" And I say, "Those are not weeds. That is my prized collection of American native wildflowers."

Some of my native wildflowers were growing wild in that patch when we bought the house; others are from a collection of wildflower seeds that I sowed; some are perennial wildflowers that I bought as plants. Some, I confess, are plants that I "liberated" from the vacant lot next door where they were growing wild. My collection is coming along very nicely.

Unfortunately some of my "American native wildflowers" spread more vigorously than others. At this point they become known technically as "weeds" and must be removed. So, on Sunday afternoon I went out to my American native wildflower garden to remove some weeds. I saw a little weed that needed to be removed. I leaned over slightly, grasped the little weed's stem and tugged gently...

Aaaaaargh. I felt a stabbing pain in my lower back and collapsed in agony. Felled by the little weed.

Three days later I am still in pain. This feels like exactly the same stupid injury that I did to myself two years ago while attempting the foolhardy and dangerous act called "putting my socks on". I wrote about it in Old.

I hate Little Weed.

12 comments:

EscapeVelocity said...

My aunt broke her hip that way.

Tillerman said...

What? Doing the tango with Tom DeLay?

O Docker said...

Sorry about your back.

Perhaps that character you were so fond of as a child can help you through your suffering.

JP said...

Socks and weeds, those well known menaces to civilisation as we know it.

See what happens if you start from Bill and Ben? Now for me it was "The Magic Roundabout" - Dylan the stoned rabbit and Zebedee the, er, bouncing thing - now they were a good solid foundation for any growing child!

Hope the back gets better.

Dan said...

Yep, just getting out of bed one morning led to having back surgery 4 months later. Dangerous stuff!

Thats why I stick to sailing, cycling/mountain biking, sking and hiking. Obviously less dangerous than pulling weeds or putting on socks.

Rest and get better and realize there is some relief through modern chemistry.

Baydog said...

Better leave stacking the firewood for someone else, Tillerman. And, O Docker, I must agree: a little weed goes a long way.

bowsprite said...

I am completely intrigued by the fellow who sings the theme song, "Flower Pot Men"; chilling enunciation.
I hope you feel better. I am thankful I live in a city where it's safe.

Zen said...

I live in Cal...this post was a let down...I'll say no more (^_^)

Carol Anne said...

Dan, actually, ancient chemistry might have more to offer ... especially for sailors ...

Did you know that canvas and cannabis are linguistic cognates? I do not know of a modern pharmaceutical that can be linked with Dacron.

Anonymous said...

Zen: Get over yourself. What does Cal have to do with anything? New Jersey rules, you know.

Anonymous said...

And what's with the Jack-o-lantern face?

Anonymous said...

Zen: Apologies for my surliness last night.

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