One way to describe our short stay in this world is to regard it as a merciless fight. The Christian Gospel may require us to be peaceable. But there must be an outlet for our aggression. There is. It is the endless fight against garden weeds. The weeds usually win. But the fight goes on. Generation succeeds generation but there is no letting up. Come rain, come sunshine, we humans have to took to our defences. As Jesus said, one little mustard plant can become a plant big enough to wrestle with (Mark 4.31).
We have one advantage over weeds—no two. We can name them. We can move. When we know a name, we can single out the owner of it. He or she forfeits anonymity. Dogs respond when they hear themselves named. This gives us the ability to capture attention of our dog. As far as a dog is concerned, that cuts both ways – as a welcome message or a prohibition.
Our capacity for movement enables us to bring destruction down on our daisies and ground elder. We can spare the plants we like and identify the weeds that are ripe for destruction.
The head and front of the offenders in the garden gets its name from the shape of its leaves. Nowadays we call it a dandelion. The French form is lion’s tooth. Like a carrot, its root is fat, tapering – and orange in colour.
The most vicious enemy a garden can have is ground elder. Commonly called bishop’s weed, it impossible to eradicate. Coming in behind the top enemy is bindweed. It is impossible to have one daisy. These three intruders are determined monopolists. Just as it is impossible to have only one daisy, so it is impossible to prevent these fratricidal plants from introducing its family, brothers, sisters, uncle, aunts, etc. They know that they have it in them to grow. (In this they resemble the Kingdom of God.) In themselves they are pretty little things but they like to have their own way and they see no reason why they should be expected to live alongside grass. Lawn-mowers conspire with them to keep their heads down when grass is being cut.
Homely names win out. This is the strength of the vernacular. Theological exactitude has no part in this. The vernacular has no respect for any taxonomy invented by man. It is just as happy to include ‘Him Upstairs’ and other casual forms for the heavenly majesty. But the lion’s tooth and the day’s eye are easy prey. The Daleks were right to favour extermination. And watch out for Christian gardeners. They can be murderous.
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