Steve and I figured we didn’t have much time to make a decision about the green eggs. Some web sites we visited said it could be as soon as three to five days before the eggs hatched into caterpillars of some kind, assuming they’re part of the moth or butterfly family.
The comments on Green eggs, no ham prompted much discussion at our house, so thank you for those who stepped in and offered ideas.
Even my Dad weighed in from Pennsylvania. Without even seeing the photo of the eggs, he said, “I suggest that you take that blue gardening glove and crush them with your thumb.”
“If you’re trying to be an organic gardener, you need to know the first rule,” he said. “Pick off anything you see and crush it with your glove. When you see eggs under the leaves of your plants, do the same thing. It used to be that we could take the bugs we saw and drop them in a little bucket of kerosene, but now I think the accepted solution is soapy water.”
But the upshot is this: I would hate to kill butterflies before their caterpillars even hatch. So, on Monday night, Steve moved the eggs to their new home, which can be seen here from the side and from the top. It’s a luxurious penthouse, constructed from a recycled bottle of LaCroix lime-flavored seltzer, which is also known in our house as Fizzy. “Do you want some Fizzy to drink with dinner?” is the question of the night, just about every night.
Yes, LaCroix, I am accepting any and all offers for blog sponsorship.
But back to the eggs. Steve relocated them off the garden stake where their mother left them, and made sure they had some greenery for their dining pleasure. They might not hatch, but at least I feel like we’re trying to coexist with them. If they turn out to be butterflies, terrific, but at bare minimum, they won’t end up as caterpillars munching on the nearest local food source (a.k.a. Our Garden) in the meantime.