I give up.
I’m going to rip everything out, scatter grass seed, and never garden again.
Or at least that’s how I feel. In a word: defeated.
Was it the weather?
First there was the super soggy spring. Then came what felt like months of blistering heat, followed by weeks and weeks of hurricanes and rain.
Or was it the dark armies of garden pests—the wilt-wielding cucumber beetles, the nectar-of-life-sucking squash bugs, the alien Mexican bean beetle larvae that transform into skeltonizing oversized yellow-spotted merchants of death? Or perhaps it was the stupid plodding stink bugs or the colonies of swarming ants. Did I mention the slugs? And forget about the green worms on my broccoli.
Forget about it—I’m done.
I’m guessing the weather had at least a little bit to do with my bugs. These swings in temperatures and conditions undoubtedly caused my poor plants much stress, and as we all know, stress affects overall health. Once the health of your plants is compromised, your garden falls easy prey to those garden-wrecking hexapods from hell.
I thought I had a handle on the bugs, what with my daily diligence of leaf inspection and insect-smashing. But once the rains set in, my routine collapsed and it all veered toward oblivion. And now I just want to rip it all out, plant grass seed, and be done gardening forever.
But there is a garden in my heart and I know several things:
Next year will be better, or at least different.
To garden is to have a hand in Creation, to be a part of the giant wheel of the world.
Bugs and all.