Take a week away and the world changes when you get back. I left a greenhouse full of gorgeous growing plants and I returned to denuded stalks and holy leaves hanging off of a several of my most prized and prolific plants.
The greenhouse is an early morning routine, one I do in leisure and under the shining sun. I wander from pot to pot with my watering can as I inspect each plant and touch it appropriately. It’s relaxing, it’s grounding. It’s a great way to start the day.
But last week, my mornings were just a bit rushed, out the door by 6:20 and on the road on the next bus out of town. I’m normally just entering the greenhouse at 7:00, so I’m sad to say there was some neglect on my part. I went in and watered every day, sometimes in the dark; but it’s hard to have a good look when there’s no light to see by.
This morning, however, on my day off just for me, I lingered a little longer over the leaves, peering a little closer underneath the greenery and what I saw shocked me. The creeping jenny I was so admiring two weeks ago now has no leaves around the crown and what it has as leaves are shot through with holes and encircled with chew marks. I picked off about 6, inch-long white caterpillars that were just chomping down on their juicy green breakfast. I was so disgusted I threw them to the birds.
Now, I am all for sharing my environment and living in a bio-diverse world, but there are some bugs and insects I don’t want in my greenhouse. They can live with impunity outside the walls, of both the house and the greenhouse, but inside those walls, I am the goddess and if they, those bugs and insects, leave me and my things alone, then I’m fine with our coexistence. I’m a generous goddess. But when they pig out on my leaves, I’m not talking a nibble here or there, but outright greed and gluttony, then they’re out of the garden and onto to the seed heap for the birds to feed off of. I can be a vengeful goddess and enough is enough.
Just ask the slugs what happened to them last month when I cast them to the robins.
Just dropping by for a bite.
I discovered them almost by accident. One morning, while watering, I found one hanging from a silken thread from a branch above my head. Now, I had no idea that slugs could spin a thread to hang from, but I’m not a biologist so I take no shame in that. I have a problem with slugs on the property anyway, but I don’t need to exacerbate the situation by buying more.
I found them embedded among plants newly purchased. I don’t think I’ll buy from that garden centre again, for I’ve had this problem before, bringing slugs home. Maybe everybody does and I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. I went through all the pots and picked out every slug I could find and gathered them up to give the robins as a treat. I’m not totally heartless. I understand the imperative to survive, so I let them go in the front garden, underneath the robin’s nest. Give them a chance to get away, but I don’t know, those robins are pretty sharp and they feed regularly from the wet earth underneath the tree. It could have been quite the feast. I hope it was.
It is heart wrenching to watch something grow from such a small little thing like a seed or a leaf cutting into a magnificent specimen of perfect green leaves only to have it destroyed by the voracious feeding of an uninvited guest. At least I didn’t stomp them to death.
It’s the bird’s chance now on the food chain.
