I live in a particularly weedy part of town, and I find myself frequently combating a particularly odious floral interloper. It’s a nasty beast – I don’t know what it’s called. It looks a bit like a dandelion crossbred with a viking horde, except it doesn’t actually have any flower I can see. The plant grows about nine feet tall, is completely covered in syringes, and it has battle axes instead of leaves.
I put on a pair of work gloves that I found in the dog food aisle of my local grocery store for three bucks and set to work uprooting these savage lawn intruders. I got quite a bit of satisfaction out of ripping them up by the roots. It takes a bit of work to get a good grip on the roots of these plants – a grip that is usually accompanied with cries of “owowowowowow” as the needles stab through the cheap plastic material protecting my fingers. However, when the weeds finally do come up, they make a satisfying tearing sound, as their thick, tuberous roots shear away from the ground.
Dear me, that sounds rather horrifying, doesn’t it?