You know when you accidentally feed an algorithm on Youtube that eventually has you thinking you can start your own self-sustaining mini farm? Buyer beware. A bunch of lovely British gardeners had me convinced that I could make my own liquid fertilizer (legal in all 50 states…that’ll be relevant) called…and I kid you not…”Weed Tea”. Here is that story.
The basic instructions for Weed Tea are as follows: Pick weeds, put them in a bucket, cover with water, let sit for 2 weeks. Dilute with water, pour on plants. Watch your plants live their best life.
There are some very glossed-over warnings of minor unpleasantries, yadda yadda yadda. But I’m already sold. I buy a 5-gallon bucket, pull the weeds, pour the water, and let it sit.
In the meantime, Justin mentions my latest rabbit hole to our friends, trying his darndest not to roll his eyes whilst I beam with pride as if I’ve struck gold in my own yard.
As my weed tea brews, let’s visualize together a dramatized montage of my daydreams:
- Katie scanning the local nursery for a cottagecore watering can that’ll match the someday decor of the back patio.
- Katie sharing a glass of afternoon weed tea with her plants in the garden. “Miss Pinkie Hawthorne, you devil, you! Have another cup, and tell me more.”
- Katie being interviewed by Joanna Gaines. “How a suburban gardener gained immeasurable wealth and fame by saving $80 a year on fertilizer.”
And with that, we’re already at the two-week mark. The day has come. The Grand Opening of my Weed Tea bucket of dreams. All of my backyard plants are here for such an occasion. If I listen really closely, I can hear the Rosemary bushes alive with my bee ladies chanting, “You go girl!” I really should have dressed up in my gingham summer dress and sunflower yellow sun hat. But I don’t own those, so my husband’s work conference T-shirt and clearance section sloggers will have to do. (link in bio. Use code: STYLIN for 1% off)
I approach my humble orange Home Depot bucket of liquid gold and twist. And heave. And twist. And it finally gives. Each rotation of unscrewing the lid is as suspenseful as any and all Youtube Unboxing videos, –mild at best, but we keep at it.
And there it is! The sight of which isn’t much to behold, but the smell…THE. SMELL.
Is that?— Oh my. (hurp–) I turn behind me and inhale. Surely it’s not supposed to (hurp–) smell this bad. Oh my. I can’t put the lid back on fast enough.
I regain my composure and take some hesitant breaths. Perhaps this is why they dilute it. It makes sense really. Diluting it 20 parts water to one part fertilizer is starting to make a whole lot of sense. I go grab my watering can. Side note: My nursery doesn’t sell a cottagecore watering can, so I use an old cottage cheese watering container. It sounds similar, but there are obvious differences.
I brave the opening process again and dilute the potion as best I can trying desperately not to spill this reeking Weed Tea on my skin and ruin every future human interaction.
I fertilize a single planter and decide that if it works, it’s probably worth the smell. I mean, all the reviews I read were magnificen–(hurp–) Oh my goodness! I can smell the (hurp–) shrubs from across the yard. I look around for any puking neighbors outside, and duck inside before anyone sees me.
It’s fine. This is fine. By morning, those grasses and shrubs will bloom with flowers in a color and shape mankind has not yet discovered, and it’ll all be worth it. People will come by the thousands to witness the magic. I just might have to hand out barf bags at the gate. It’s all good.
Hours later, I walk outside to check on my botany breakthrough project and my over-sensitive nose is still slaughtered by the worst smell imaginable. Amazing how something so invisible can ruin a sight so pretty. Which is when I swallow my pride creeping up my (hurp–) throat and decide that the only way I’m keeping this fertilizer is IF and ONLY IF the aforementioned mind-blowing flowers bloom by morning.
To no one’s surprise, they don’t. The nerve.
So I seal up the bucket, lug it into the garbage can, pray it doesn’t spontaneously combust, and am now back here to write this warning.
In every article and video I consumed on the subject, they hinted at “a bit of a smell” or ” it kinda stinks”. I’m here to replace that very skippable piece of information with the truth.
“Weed Tea: Imagine a dead wildebeest decaying in your backyard, and someone comes by and dumps the entire contents of an outhouse over it. In July. Can you smell it? That’s the smell of weed tea. Thanks for having me, Joanna.”
– How a Suburban Gardener justifies the $80 a year on fertilizer