by Emma Cooper

Created on: June 24, 2007   Last Updated: February 20, 2011

The previous owners of our house weren't gardeners. The dog had been allowed to dig holes in the lawn and there was garbage buried all over the place. The only plants that weren't dead were the unkillable ones.

We straightened out the lawn first, so that it was possible to walk around the garden without risking a broken ankle. From the ground we could see there were brambles at the bottom of the garden, but the extent of the problem was only visible from the bedroom window. The brambles had marched a good 12 feet into the garden, and in summer they were taller than my husband and he's not a short man. If Sleeping Beauty was behind that mess, waiting for Prince Charming, she was going to be waiting a long time!

Eventually we couldn't put off dealing with the brambles any longer. It was clear that this was a problem that was getting worse every day that we left it alone. To start with, we called in reinforcements. My parents came for the weekend and we fought the brambles with shears and secateurs. Heat haze frequently obscured the battleground, but at the end of the grueling day it was clear that whilst both sides had done damage, there was no clear winner.

For the rest of the summer there were minor skirmishes, but the brambles thrived in the sunshine and regrouped. We, on the other hand, wilted.

The following year it was clear we needed a new strategy, and we turned to heavy armaments. Chemical warfare is not an option in this house, but when pushed we will turn to heavy armaments. Enter my husband, with a hedge trimmer. The brambles fell back in the face of his onslaught, and I gathered up their fallen branches and sent them off for community composting.

The brambles were beaten back, but not defeated. While we turned our attention elsewhere, they regrouped and sent out new shoots.

It was while I was digging out the bramble roots, the only solution to bring them under control, that I came to appreciate them as pioneer plants. These are true settlers, sending out shoots into new territory. Well-provisioned and tough as old boots, these shoots have one goal in life to settle new territory and hold it against all comers.

If you starve them out and destroy their roots you can shift them for a while, but they will always return. Long after we are gone they will be here, hiding our messes and covering our destruction, and the world would be a barren place without them and their fellow pioneers. What my garden taught me is that weeds become a problem when we make the perfect habitat for them. The key to having a beautiful, weed-free garden is to work with nature, not against it.

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