They’ve always been the garden bad guys – but could it be they’re just misunderstood? One of the small joys of lockdown (for the lockdown joys have only ever, really, been small) has been watching the verges and lawns around my neighbourhood explode into wildness.
The vast majority are maintained by the council, and the measures put in place by Covid-19 have stopped them from mowing. Instead of boring, clipped grass, impromptu wildflower meadows have leapt forth: from buttery lesser celandine right at the start of this whole thing, through to frothy cow parsley, forget-me-nots and, more recently, red valerian.
It has made taking the same daily exercise walk far more interesting, watching white dead-nettle and the delicate herb robert pop
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