Man’s world

In which our true and good Southern gentleman generously shares his greatest invention with new gardeners – and it will blow your carrots.

No need to cry over split carrots, says Joe Bennett. He’s got the cure.

W elcome to every one of you who’s new to gardening. You will never look back. By choosing to get dirt beneath your fingernails, you have joined a loving fraternity.

That said, beware. Even in the garden, there are people who will try to sell you things. Don’t fall for them. The things you need to garden – the soil, the sun, the rain and the friendly advice of your fellow gardeners – these things come free. So ignore the pedlars and hucksters, and resist all gadgets. You do not, for example, need a de-bifurcator.

I know, I know. You have never heard of a de-bifurcator and you’re not entirely convinced that it exists. You suspect this may be some sort of elaborate joke on my part, a chance to mock you credulous gardening rubes. Well, it isn’t a joke and a de-bifurcator does exist – I know because I happen to have one – but I repeat, you do not need one.

Gardening, whatever people tell you, is essentially gadgetless.

It is an activity as old as Adam, and Adam had nothing, not even the clothes he stood up in. To garden is simply to strengthen our bond with the earth from which we sprang and to which we shall return.

That said, things can go wrong. Not because the earth is against us but because everything is out for itself.

The cabbage white butterfly, for example, is as keen to raise offspring as you are, so it would be a damn fool not to lay its eggs on your broccoli. Similarly, the humble carrot cares only for getting its roots down deep, so where the soil is unsatisfactory it will pay no attention to our wish for straight and symmetrical carrots, and it will bifurcate. There’s no malice in it. Merely self-interest.

Now, to most gardeners, bifurcation is an inconvenience at worst. It is only to those of us with a particular interest in growing that underrated treasure of the earth, the small and tender carrot, that it looms large. Hence, the de-bifurcator. But you don’t need one.

And you especially don’t need one of the commercial versions currently available. Believe me, I have tried them all over the years. To be frank, most of them are more of a problem than bifurcation itself.

It was for this reason, of course, that I eventually came up with my own design, and that is typical of the gardening life. It fosters independence and self-sufficiency. You become a maker rather than a consumer. Now every time I take down my de-bifurcator, and wrap my hand around its well worn shaft, I think to myself, I bloody made that. And a glow of pleasure suffuses me. The thing has such neat simplicity. Immodestly I will admit that others have remarked on its virtues. Indeed, people have offered me considerable sums of money to make them one.

“No no,” I’d say. “I am a gardener. I am rich beyond the dreams of avarice.”

But they persisted, and well, as a gardener, one has a duty to share the happiness.

So I had a little engineering company knock me up a batch that I then passed on at cost – plus packing, postage and a little handling – to close friends and family. My reward was their delight.

It’s a while since I looked, but I may still have a few hanging around in the garage, so if any of you… though you’ll have to be quick. Now that I’ve advertised the fact they’ll fly out the door. Meanwhile, you newcomers, happy gardening. And remember, you are among friends. ✤