Permethrin
Published:
THERE it was, as bold as brass, louping out the page at me – the name of a very fine insecticide that is no longer available to gardeners, yet is widely available as an insect repellent. It was in that guise that I saw it in a catalogue – one of those travel, clothes and gadget-type publications that drop through the letterbox from time to time.
This chemical is like a man-made version of the organic insecticides derived from pyrethrums that have been used by gardeners for a very long time. Like many others, it has been withdrawn from the market – for one of two reasons, I suspect.
Firstly, many pesticides have been withdrawn in recent times because there is a suspicion, often supported by a smidgeon of evidence, that the material is injurious to health.
In this present case, the word, carcinogenic, appears somewhere in the literature and that is usually enough for a material to be withdrawn – but it is still being used to treat clothing (which presumably someone is going to wear) while its use as an insecticide is banned.
A lack of joined-up thinking, do I hear you ask – well, maybe, but there is another justification for its withdrawal.
Many of our most-used pesticides have been around for quite some time; so much so that the manufacturers’ licence to make the stuff has run out and they have to apply for a new one – just as we have to renew our driver’s licence when the time comes.
To continue on the same theme, the cost of re-licensing will have been readjusted – upwards, of course. The fact is that the cost of licensing a chemical for use as a pesticide has rocketed while, at the same time, the market has dwindled somewhat as a result of the combined efforts of conservationists, the organic movement and the general awareness campaign about the dangers of using such materials.
All of these are perfectly justifiable in their own right and, when taken together, represent a very powerful logic. Faced with the huge cost of re-licensing, manufacturers have done their sums and concluded that it would be uneconomic to continue to market the product because they might not receive an adequate return.
It matters not a jot that the gardener lost a very useful insecticide/fungicide/herbicide.
So what do we do now? Is there something else to take its place? Well of course there is, and that brings me to the next stage in this particular saga.
What is Weedol? Gardeners will know that it is the common commercial name for a herbicide containing Paraquat. Not now, it ain’t! That is my particular gripe – the familiar common name remains, but the active ingredient has changed. That smacks of sharp practice to me.
The manufacturers will choose to use a very familiar name that has become synonymous with success and, of course, they are not responsible for people who never or hardly ever read the small print. But the fact remains that the “new Weedol” has yet to prove itself.
To continue with this example, the principal ingredient of the Weedol that became a very successful product was Paraquat, and that has now gone. On my desk I have “Weedol fast-acting weed killer” which contains diquat (a well tried and tested herbicide that has been around for some time) and I also have new Weedol MAX, which contains a new solution to the range of instant kill weed killers – pelargonic acid. It may be the most wonderful, organically approved addition to the range, but it has yet to be proven out there in the marketplace.
Having inadvertently given the producers a fine bit of publicity – gratis – my point is that if an entirely new product, using an ingredient that I have never seen reference to before, is that good and so much more organically friendly, blah, blah, it should have a new name to avoid confusion.
This problem is not restricted to the instant herbicide action of pelargonic acid, it is much more widespread and I think there will be some confusion in the minds of gardeners because, as I say, many tend not to read the small print.
There is another example in an insecticide range where there are two products in ready-to-use formulation which have the same name in large print (colour of the container and label is different) but contain different chemicals. One of the products can be used on edible crops and the other should not be used on edible crops.
I could go on. The sector is rife with this sort of thing. The message is to do your homework and take time to read the small print. Then I, for one, will be slightly easier in my mind.
Shining through the gloom
Over the years, I will admit to having been a little dismissive of cherry trees – the blossoms tend to be transient, prone to serious weather damage when in flower and then they fade into the background for the rest of the year.
There are some honourable exceptions, such as the Tibetan cherry, which has that stunning, silky, shiny, smooth polished bark that is particularly valuable in winter. The so-called flowering Japanese cherries are not high on my list of value-for-money plants.
This year, however, the earlier varieties have shone like beacons when, all around – if not covered in snow – the garden landscape is lacking in colour.
Cherries in blossom also bring back memories. Before flying the coop completely, I was an occasional resident of Helensburgh, where my late father was the parks superintendent for nigh on 30 years. The street trees are a significant feature in this town and, if you happen to visit in a good cherry year, the views are quite stunning, never to be forgotten – but note the use of the phrase, “in a good year”.
That is where my problem comes from: many plants bloom just once a year, quite often for a short period. When you have room for just one tree in the garden, you might bear this observation in mind.
Some areas of the country can expect the cherries to bloom reliably every year, and if you are so blessed, a whole range of terrific varieties will be available to you – and you can choose from an infinite variety of flower colour, from rosy pink through white to a strong cream colour often described as yellow (Ukon).
Some exhibit wonderful autumn colour (Prunus sargentii) but above all, there is a great variety of tree forms, from the Cheal’s Weeping to the slim poplar-shaped Amanogawa. In between, we have the triangular and very popular Kanzan and the mop-headed Hisakura.
Before you get the wrong idea, the photographs, taken in our own garden, feature two of my favourites, with a shape almost like a tabletop bearing large, double, white pendulous flowers – Shirotae and a close-up of the flowers of the Great White Cherry, Tai Haku.
Flowering cherries can be a big disappointment, but when they are good they can be quite magnificent to behold. They enjoy a deep, well-drained soil and a bit of shelter from searing winds.











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