Don’t bite the hand

I was working on the bi-annual weeding of the gooseberries today. It’s not that the gooseberries wouldn’t benefit from weeding more than once every six months, but there’s simply a limit to my tolerance.

It’s bad enough that nettles zing me and thistle spines lodge in my gloves as I pull them out. I don’t begrudge them their attempts to stay rooted in the ground and avoid the compost pile.

But the gooseberries have no excuse for aggression. I’m weeding around them, freeing them from competition, making sure they have plenty of space, light and air.

And what do I get for my efforts?

Stab wounds, scratches, spines broken off in my hands…ungrateful plants. Haven’t they heard the saying, Don’t bite the hand that weeds you?