Friday, September 4, 2009
Pestageddon or the tale of Sid
This is Sid and he is a snail. Ok, to be more accurate he was a snail, a snail with a tale. One morning we bonded over breakfast. While he munched on a stem of broccoli flowers that I had only moments earlier culled from the bush, I sipped a strong Earl Grey. He wasn't very talkative, indeed I think it was more monologue than dialogue wherein I was doing all the work. I am guessing he was either polite, and did not wish to converse with his mouth full, or he knew that bonding would only make the inevitable fate harder to deal with.
In recent months holes have been appearing in my greener vegetables. The broccoli leaves resembled green Swiss cheese, a kind of side dish to Suessian green eggs and ham. I didn't mind the leaves going on those, they were large enough to withstand the assualt. I even looked the other way when the geranium leaves turned lacelike, as although the greenery was holey the flowers reamined untouched (although I did spy the telltale slimey silver trail over one red geranium hea.d But it was when the culprits hit my lettuce, repeatedly, without any thought of my own desire/need for salady goodness that I knew their time was up.
And I guess so did Sid. I let him munch away while I finished my tea, hoping he was in the thrall of eating and didn't notice the looming shadow overhead. Hopefully the dispatching via carrot filled pot was quick and relatively painless. The same method was used for other members of his very extended family. Sorry Sid, next time maybe stick to the less edible greens! At the very least I was impressed that you, or one of your relatives from the distant past traversed the two floors to get to my balcony garden green haven.