The Arcadia of Weeds

An unexpected debate has arisen among my neighbors. This rainy spring has caused urban vegetation to grow significantly. Not only in the gardens—of which there are numerous vegetation in the Barcelona neighborhood of Horta—but also in the streets, in tree pits, in small squares, and in any gap left by the asphalt of the roads or the cobblestones of the sidewalks. All kinds of weeds, or rather, spontaneous weeds, appear, exuberant in their spring bloom. Now they're making the news because Girona has decided not to eliminate them. Beyond complying with European regulations not to use toxic herbicides like glyphosate, the latest "Temps de Flors" (Flower Seasons) enshrines the idea of ​​renaturalizing the city and trying to convince green-haters that spontaneous weeds don't litter the streets.

The issue also divides my neighbors into two irreconcilable camps. I'd already experienced this with urban fauna, because pigeons, cats, and parrots evoke age-old likes and dislikes, but I would never have imagined that urban flora could be so divisive. On the one hand, the Versailles-like are only at peace if they can guarantee the geometric distribution of vegetation, confining it to precise spaces and pruning it periodically to control its volumetric growth. When a Versailles-like person sees ferns or dandelions on a sidewalk, they feel a bitter unease that makes them dream of pruning shears or other drastic repressive solutions. On the other side are the wild ones, who favor not uprooting anything unless it hinders accessibility.

Tom Stoppard anticipated the debate on the importance of spontaneous vegetation

The debate is reminiscent of the one over stagnant water in parks. Those in Versailles wanted it blue and chlorinated, while those in the wild insisted that the greener and more insect-filled, the healthier. I admit I have a wild spirit. I've never liked tidy gardens, and my favorite plant is the bougainvillea, which grows wherever it wants and spreads wherever it pleases.

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The debate over spontaneous vegetation is the driving force behind the drama Arcadia , a masterpiece that Tom Stoppard set in a British country house. Stoppard's theatrical wisdom capitalizes on the contrast between two garden models: the classic Georgian garden, which represents the enlightened harmony of rationalism, and the picturesque, irregular, and winding garden, which represents the wild nature and passions of Romanticism. Stoppard manages to make the discussion between his characters about what the garden of the house in Sidley Park should look like reflect very deep oppositions. Today, between order and chaos, we need to rethink 21st-century cities so that they are more invisible than "unlivable."