spinculum obnoxium
Monday 7 April 2008 | I like a cookie
Sunday flew past with papers ungraded and manuscripts unedited, long sunslanted hours spent seeking out with pricked fingers and uprooting the branching vines of this little number, a naturalized (and I would venture to say, invasive) ground-hugging burr from the Mediterranean. True, it provides forage and crop cover in Southern Australia and Texas; but when it comes to the suburban lawn, let’s just say both the Brujo and I uttered the word “Roundup” at certain trenchant moments during the 16-hour day.
When I close my eyes, I can still see its brachiated shapes in negative, their shining black outlines sharp against the inside of my lids.
Come to find out, that clover-leafed evil vine is not really called spinculum, nor, as I decided its common name should be, the Robert plant. (Possibly because of the Brujo’s engrossing al fresco lecture on Led Zeppelin.)
No, it is burr medic or clover burr (Medicago polymorpha), a fierce little annual of whom we might say, as some have: “Small, trifoliate, light green leaves. Leaflets elliptical, toothed or serrated. Top leaflet on a longer petiole than the other two. Axillary stipules deeply toothed. Small pea-like flower, yellow in solitary clusters on thin axillary stems. One deep tap-root with bacterial nodules present. Not stoloniferous but produces a fine, thick mat with small, hooked burrs present.”
Yes. Yes they are. And two weeks ago I made a single pass with the push mower across the overgrown front yard, after hacking the worst of the thistles out with my trusty hoe (genetic sharecropper facility at hoe-chopping always astounds me), and was alarmed to see tiny green burrs erupting from my mower blades in little clouds before nestling contentedly back into the grass. Slowly, dimly, I realized that there had to be weeding before there could be mowing. And thus, the last two weekends.
“Better adapted to neutral and alkaline soils in low rainfall (<35 in.) areas than most clover species. Lack of cold tolerance limits northern adaptation. Individual plants may produce over a thousand pods. Burr medic as well as other species of annual medic volunteers on thousands of acres each autumn. Dependable reseeder because of persistent hard seed and excellent seedling vigor. These hard seed remain viable in the soil for long periods of time. Grown as nitrogen source and soil improvement crop; also excellent winter forage for domestic livestock and wildlife.”
And how heartily, faithless reader, did I wish for domestic livestock—a pygmy goat would do the trick, and get along tolerably with Finny and Pye. I could tie a golden bell around her neck on a blue ribbon and we could call her Heidi. Wildlife would be even better; but other than the panting coyote which the B. and I saw on Saturday afternoon as it trotted away from a golf course, no deer or even bunnies graze our gazon. Quel fuckin’ waste of forage.
Fortunately, Tea Revives You, as the 1930s UK advertising slogan pragmatically advised Britons, who needed no reminding. And there was tea, such tea—not only Mandarin’s influx of silver needle, but three super-cute mist-green Adagio tea tins which came in the post on Friday. I love them passionately. They even printed recommended temperature and brewing times right on the tin. I highly recommend a cup of fragrant vanilla oolong for pre-weeding vitality; and haven’t yet tried white blueberry or berry blues yet, but both smell sweet and heady.
If you’re interested—and believe me, you are—I have $5 gift certificates; and since the samples are mostly $2 (except for elite Mandarin-beloved teas like pu-erh and dragon pearls), you’re only out a buck for three tins, plus a modest $3.75 for shipping. Email me (wanton bribery!) and I’ll send you a code tout suite. On your first order you get a freebie, too (missing from the photo is Boléro, an almond-scented black tea blend). BUT WAIT THAT’S NOT ALL THERE’S MORE for every review you write on their website, you get 50¢ off your next order. The whole experience has left me with head-swimming memories of whispering heaven—which tea they don’t carry, but maybe mango oolong will come close enough. Keep calm and put the kettle on!
Good advice for me, as it’s now 6:30 on an unhappily Monday morning (with student conferences starting at 10 am and lasting until 1 pm, followed by my own classes from 1:30-7:30); as I’ve already explained I got precisely bupkis done this weekend; and now the piper is coughing and clearing his throat and tapping his food and giving me significant glances, waiting for his wage. I should explain to him that I don’t get my next paycheck until Friday.
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