#74
Every summer I attempt a garden. It’s always a feeble attempt as I don’t really have the confidence in my plant growing skills, but I try. I salvage empty drawers from the street, lug them into the backyard, paint them bright colors, fill them with soil, and plant some seeds. I know what you’re thinking, I’ve skipped a step somewhere, maybe, I don’t know, who cares.
So far I have been able to grow about 2/3 of what I planted into almost viable food, which isn’t too bad in my book. But there is a set back, every year, every summer, every June/July that FUCKS EVERYTHING UP. Just when I’m getting really excited and I might actually have a real head of lettuce in my garden or a real tomato - all plant life vanishes overnight. It’s not a slow process. Just bam, gone, done, like it was never there. And it is all the handiwork of these harmless looking fuzzy caterpillars that I don’t have the heart to kill.










