Why, when the sun has scarcely burst through the clouds & the rain hasn't thought about falling for weeks, do the weeds beat a military tattoo across the beds?
Whilst I accept the premise that 'nature abhors a vacuum', it still sends my heart plummeting when I make it onto the allotment after a mere 10 days away building show gardens. Where there was weathered, but bare soil, I now find chickweed, dandelion, creeping buttercup, groundsel, perennial ryegrass and annual meadowgrass bursting into flower more successfully than anything I could have squeezed into the cold soil after the snow melted.
An hour coaxing roots out of the dessicated & cracked clay soil results in two bins of weeds, and an extra minute is spent ripping the heads off any remaining dandelion flower that dares show its face. It may not stop their growth, but it will stop seeds blowing into neighbouring plots until I get more time to deal with them properly. Weeds don't respond to wheedling.