The Inadvertent Gardener

Gardeners, plant and nature lovers can join in Green Thumb Sunday every week. Visit As the Garden Grows for more information.

Not that long ago, I went out to cut some parsley for a dish I was making, and very nearly harvested myself a caterpillar.

I don’t understand how this works. There were, as it turned out, three of these vibrant guys hanging out in my two parsley pots, all chilling on a parsley sprig of their own, not appearing to be eating anything, just sitting there. When I first looked at the plants, I didn’t see them at all, and then I looked closer, and suddenly it was a veritable nuclear family of caterpillars.

How are they invisible at first? And why are they all fans of parsley?

The three are down to one now, and I saw a white moth fluttering around the garden that I hadn’t seen before, so I’m wondering if perhaps that’s what these guys become. If so, I’m kind of sad for them—the white moths are kind of boring and nondescript, while these caterpillars? They kind of rule. They’re not as weird as tomato hornworms, and they’re quite beautiful.

Since I’ve had miserable parsley luck this year anyway, I’m letting the parsley become the Home of the Caterpillars, at least until they’re all gone. I’m down to one, and figure soon enough, he’ll cocoon up and turn into something fluttery.

But in the meantime, it’s like having a low-maintenance pet that doesn’t require a security deposit. I’m all fired up about that.

Gardeners, plant and nature lovers can join in Green Thumb Sunday every week. Visit As the Garden Grows for more information.

It’s probably too early—far too early—to declare the Great Bean Experiment of 2007 a success.

But, at least temporarily, there seem to be good things happening. There are flowers on the bean plants. Lots of flowers. And as I’ve learned, flowers beget vegetables. As much as I love flowers for flowers’ sake, I sure do adore the ones that start as purty flowers and end up as purty dinner.

Perhaps I’m growing Swiss beans, however? I’m not noticing any actual bugs that could perform the damage, but every single bean leaf has been stricken with an unnatural holey-ness. I am not pleased. Not pleased at all.

I am thankful, though. The beans are now probably a foot tall, and that means they survived the critical part of the life cycle where the rabbits probably should have just eaten them. So if I can just keep the leaves from completely disappearing off the plants, I might actually eat a homegrown bean.

Yeah, that’s right. One bean. Because I’m setting my sights low in the legume category.

There’s been all kinds of news this year about the lack of bees around the country. I’m as troubled by this as everyone else, and must admit that this year, there are many fewer bees in evidence in my garden than last summer. I don’t know if I just planted the wrong things, or if the whole colony collapse disorder dealio has come here to roost, but it has been distinctly less buggy out there.

Except for the part where there are mosquitoes. Lots and lots of mosquitoes.

I learned a lot about different bugs last year, but haven’t seen very many of the ones I grew used to seeing. And, until this week, hadn’t really seen any that I didn’t recognize.

Again, back to the mosquitoes. If I could count how many I’ve killed this year, I would tell you. But I can’t, so I won’t.

But on Thursday night, a bug I’d never seen before showed up in one of my not-yet-blooming flowers. He thought he could hide from me, I guess. But I looked close, and saw the guy to the left. What the heck is he? Any ideas?