Nutsedge, the so-called purple kind, Cyperus rotundus, isn’t purple and it doesn’t produce nuts, but it makes nuts, or crazy people, out of otherwise normal gardeners. In fact, in this part of the world, most gardeners refer to it as nutgrass, presumably because it drives gardeners crazy. I thought it had driven me to the limits of gardening endurance last year, when I spent days patiently and impatiently rooting out nutsedge plants from amongst my beloved daylilies. My eyes became trained to spot a nutsedge in the middle of a lush and green daylily, whose leaves the nutsedge closely resemble. In fact, I hoped that I had, with great patience and perseverance, eradicated the ****** stuff (insert your own preferred expletive).
But no. Here we are in the throes of an horrendous period of bitter heat and bitter drought, and even though we have poured water into our garden area to try to save our great tall oaks, the beloved daylilies have simply gone dormant (I hope dormant, rather than dead) because of the relentless temperatures, and all the other really tough plants are either dead, dormant, or pretty pitiful, ah, but not the nutsedge. In fact, it is so remarkably green that it is easily spotted. It is so remarkably green that I am semi-seriously considering transplanting some into a pot. It is so ***** green (same preferred expletive here) that if I knew the way to bring the subject up to horticulturists and plant scientists, I would suggest a hybrid crossing nutsedge with something edible such as corn or wheat or one of those other sorts of grains that are nourishing, and then, dear readers, we would stamp out hunger, truly. Because it’s sure and certain we’re not gonna stamp out nutsedge!