The Forth bridge

There is a saying that most of us British folk are aware of - with regard to the long red metal structure afore mentioned in the title of this post.
' . . . is like painting the forth bridge; you finish one end of the job and then start again at the beginning. I don't know what one might say in French. ' . . . is like making a planning application for a shed, or, like trying to cancel your car insurance. If anyone knows I'd be interested.
The reason for this observation was inspired by the green stealth in the garden. Tiny micro-dots of seedlings are suddenly ten centimeter plants, overnight; sucking everything out of the soil and shooting skywards.
I run around like a demented hamster, unearthing handfuls of lush weedage, filling the wheelbarrow and emptying it onto the Mount Fuji of weeds, only to turn and see the green vastness encroaching upon me . . .
We of the hothouse are organic (mad) in our gardening pursuits, and it is heartening after three years of no chemicals that amongst all the usual suspects in the weed world there are treasures appearing: grape hyacinths, edible herbs including coriander! violets and lots of other unknown-to-me plants - until I re-discover the Flora Of The Midi book we have somewhere.
Maybe next year we will start workshops: weed appreciation for begonia obsessives, one hundred things to with dried weeds, weed counting as a way into meditation.
Anyway, this year I will make beds of tame stuff and areas of weed freedom just to see what else appears that we can marvel over and possibly eat.