[growth] "oh no you don't," I said, crossly...

... to the thing that appeared to be grass growing up through my planted-out cut-price live-baby-salad-leaves, when I stepped onto the patio just now -- full moon or thereabouts shining down serenely -- to retrieve something from the garage (we have a garage) and to pick some tomatoes for tomorrow's lunch. (The fact that my patio tomatoes are still happily ripening up, while sat on the patio, in late October, is... Another Matter.)

So I picked it, and I picked another of it, and I was reaching for the third when I thought "... hold on a second, everything suddenly smells of garlic."

I tasted, cautiously, the "grass blades" I had just broken off.

... the wild garlic I brought back from the Mouldering Ancestral Pile way back at the beginning of the year, as I was passing through Plymouth for my pre-op consultation with my top surgeon? That I planted in a trough, watched shrivel up sulkily, and then exasperatedly planted some cut-price live-baby-salad-leaves on top of, in the vague expectation that I would probably actually see them again?

Like wheat that springeth green, indeed.