EMO

No, my dear readers, I am not coming out as someone who wears a lot of black, has a fringe that covers half of my face, and a penchant for writing depressive poems about how much I hate the world and the world hates me. I do not like My Chemical Romance.

No, far worse than that. I suffer from Early March Optimism. It strikes, as the name suggests, at the start of Spring. It takes hold of me at the allotment. I survey the ravages of winter ( a few dead kale plants, some happy sprouts, some stunted leeks, and the mothers of all parsnips), and I think “Well, not bad – won’t take long to clear up”. This bit is generally true.

But then I make my mistake, and EMO rears its head. I say to SomeBeans “It really looks like we’ve got on top of the weeds this year – there’s only a few ephemerals about”. Ha.

Whilst some weeds, like hairy bittercress, will carry on growing and seeding through the year whenever it’s warm enough, I always forget that it’s only from mid to late March that the real thugs get going. Hence my EMO moments. I cannot yet see the horsetail, ground elder, couch grass and bind weed thrusting their way to the surface. Ignorance is bliss, at least for another week or two. So allow me my moment of EMO.