Friends, my garden has betrayed me.
I went to the new plot after work and was thrilled–there are cucumbers where there were just flowers on Thursday.
The peppers are blooming.
There are beautiful green cherry tomatoes.
There are ripe, red tomatoes hiding.
There is the most gorgeous tomato I’ve picked so far.
Everything was right with the gardening world. I walked to the older plot and started picking some hot peppers, as usual.
Then I noticed that my tomato plants looked eaten.
And there was poop (fancily called frass among gardeners).
And there was this.
I hate tomato worms.
I have been waiting for the day to come, fearing it, and praying that it wouldn’t.
They grossed me out as a kid, which took some skill. And they gross me out even more now. They’re so fat and squishy and huge and disgusting.
My parents used to pay my brother and I to pick them off the tomato plants in our back yard. For some reason, we put them into juice bottles. I think we got a penny or maybe a nickel apiece.
I got a shovel out of the shed and walked back to my plot thinking “garden like your life depends on it” over and over.
I pulled off that stem.
And then I put the shovel on top of the worm and stepped on it. Multiple times. And this happened, and this is possibly more disgusting than when I started.
And then I carried it to the compost pile.
I put the shovel away, got in the car, and called my brother to ask what to do. And do you know what he said?
Get an apple juice bottle.