Ecocosm.
A chinese cabbage (more specifically, a one-kilo Napa Savoy), when grown organically, contains multitudes. I could tell that the Napas were getting restless-- they'd bushed up, pushing out into other squares, bullying the tomatos and demanding lunch money from the lettuce in the next square over. To be fair, it wasn't entirely their fault. Part of it was biology-- that brash adolescent phase of plant life where it is full of JUICES and right before it bolts skyward, seeking someone to understand it. Love, you know? Companionship... pollinators.
Right.
So anyway, when it started to rain today, I disentangled myself from the neighbor's mulberry tree (and thoughts of the Urban Berry-Picker's guide I someday want to post) and trudged home. Taking a bandsaw to the Napas was on my to do list-- so out the all came, and into the house I went, tracking dirt and feeling a little like a New Guinea head hunter with a fresh load of trophies to process. (When they say 'one kilo' what they mean is: don't let it get bigger than one kilo or you will throw your back out bringing it into the house.)
I was ready, or at least I thought I was. I had a knife, a cutting board, and a plethora of towels. I also had salt to kill the slugs, strainers, and buckets.
Forty minutes later, the count is: ten towels soaked and dirty. Fifty-six slugs, big and little, three daddy long-legs, six earwig looking things, one Japanese beetle, a rather startled red wiggler worm... and three unidentified things that flew up and out of the leaves, spreading rather mothlike wings as they went.
No, I don't know what they were. They were flying in formation, and headed straight for my face, so I dropped the knife, screamed, ducked, and when I uncrouched they were gone.
So, one heart attack later, the kitchen floor is clean, the slugs are dead (osmotic gradients, how I love you), the earwigs are gone and the spiders have been deposited outside. The lettuce was practically crying in relief, and the tomato immediately started trying to flex its muscles, leaning over the empty area. But just wait-- they haven't met their NEW neighbors yet.
Right.
So anyway, when it started to rain today, I disentangled myself from the neighbor's mulberry tree (and thoughts of the Urban Berry-Picker's guide I someday want to post) and trudged home. Taking a bandsaw to the Napas was on my to do list-- so out the all came, and into the house I went, tracking dirt and feeling a little like a New Guinea head hunter with a fresh load of trophies to process. (When they say 'one kilo' what they mean is: don't let it get bigger than one kilo or you will throw your back out bringing it into the house.)
I was ready, or at least I thought I was. I had a knife, a cutting board, and a plethora of towels. I also had salt to kill the slugs, strainers, and buckets.
Forty minutes later, the count is: ten towels soaked and dirty. Fifty-six slugs, big and little, three daddy long-legs, six earwig looking things, one Japanese beetle, a rather startled red wiggler worm... and three unidentified things that flew up and out of the leaves, spreading rather mothlike wings as they went.
No, I don't know what they were. They were flying in formation, and headed straight for my face, so I dropped the knife, screamed, ducked, and when I uncrouched they were gone.
So, one heart attack later, the kitchen floor is clean, the slugs are dead (osmotic gradients, how I love you), the earwigs are gone and the spiders have been deposited outside. The lettuce was practically crying in relief, and the tomato immediately started trying to flex its muscles, leaning over the empty area. But just wait-- they haven't met their NEW neighbors yet.