No, not those ones.

Not that one either.

The ones that did this:

Buried deep. Hopefully the stem hairs root in time.

Probably the same ones:

A wait and see game.

All this carnage right next to this beaut:


The most rare helper of mine thought to play in the water she had asked to put on the peas. Soaked and turning hues of blues, we packed up our tools, turned off the hoses, and…

Ack! What is wrong with my cabbage?! What on earth is happening to that leaf in the middle? From farther away I’d seen the dark spots and thought the harlequin beetles were back. A little closer and no…

Just a sick little leaf from a far off tree.

Harlequin Neighbors.

There are some downsides to plots in a community garden. There are some upsides.

Taking a walk about for a stretch after a lot of weeding and we come upon this party.

I grabbed a container, captured as many as I could, and when drowning them without soap was futile, dumped them on some rocks to then squash.

I had seen one lonesome one on a cabbage of mine the previous week. After disposing of it and checking for eggs, I’d wondered where the rest were…

Two weeks under.

Flu is such a short word. Flu. Small. Simple.

Influenza sounding more flora. More weighty. Simply more.

I’m not sure I’ve ever been so under the weather. I lost days to it before losing track of what day it was.

The rain timed itself as keenly as it can this time of year.

Which did nothing to mature the palates of my pests from pea shoots and brassicae greens toward henbit or this star-shaped mystery.

Perhaps next year.