I have been fighting a losing battle with great pendulous sedge, aka weeping sedge, but to science known as Carex pendula. It came unbidden into my garden many years ago, most likely as a seed on my wellington boots. It grows in ancient woodlands, particularly those on heavy soils, so a likely candidate would be Salcey Forest, which since Domesday has straddled the Northamptonshire-Buckinghamshire boundary. It also often crops up in a lakeside setting.
With stiff saw-edged grass-like leaves it is an impressive plant, up to four feet high and wide, and this month bears many foxtail shaped flower spikes of deep cream which arch gracefully over to give it its pendulous name. In common with most other sedges these flowering stems are triangular in section, unlike the round or oval ones of grasses, which helps to separate them.
In the early years, when I first had it, it was quite well-behaved, but now it threatens to take over my small front garden. Not only has it become the full allotted four-by-four span allowed by the books, but it has seeded itself widely, being particularly adept at sprouting in those places from which it is nearly impossible to winkle it out, such as the cracks in my driveway. As a matter of principle I refuse to use weedkiller liquids, so the battle is well and truly on to eradicate it manually.
I remember a few years ago a survival expert on TV gathering its green nut-like seeds and pounding them into mush before cooking them, over his obligatory outdoor fire, into a kind of porridge. Here, I thought, was an answer to my problem. I wasn’t too surprised, though mildly disappointed, when he and his companion pronounced them as almost uneatable.
The sedges as a group are a very ancient order, going back for hundreds of millions of years into the fossil record. Indeed their ancestors were much taller than they are today, and dominated the landscape.
They are among the plants which decayed into the coal measures that we mine today, causing so many problems for ourselves along the way. They are also a component of the boggy strata that are dug in many places to provide peat fuel.
Another thing that sedges are still used for is thatching. In particular they are tough as old boots, yet they retain just the right degree of flexibility to cap off the apex of a straw- or reed-thatched roof.
One of these days I am going out there with my shears and my long-handled knife, and if I have to do it one leaf at a time I am going to rid myself of this threatening invader. But not today!
Good news, I hope, for those of you who regularly read my online blog. In response to many request Jane and Dave have collected together the ones from 2006, added a selection of images from our collection of thousands, and turned them into a little book. This is available, in very limited quantities, at £6.00 including postage, only from us. If you would like me to sign your copy please indicate so when you order. Subsequent years are going to be covered by additional volumes.