There are just too many bugs in my world. Earlier this year we had round after round of fire ants, but when the drought hit in July, they seemed to disappear. Now, after just a few good rainstorms, they are back in full force. They've invaded my blueberry plants and one bush is struggling to survive. I hope I can save it.
Another scourge we've been dealing with daily is an infestation of grain moths. No matter how hard I've looked, I can't find the source for these invasive pests. We see them flying in almost every room, too, not just in the kitchen. I have checked every possible cause, short of opening up brand new boxes of pasta and crackers, and have come up empty.
The worst one, though, that raises the hair on the back of my neck, is in my garden across the street. After some online research, I discovered the name of it. Leaffooted bug. UGH. They are large and long and are covering certain tomato plants, hanging all over each other like some sort of obscene bug orgy. They are stealthy, slow moving, ugly things, and I have to gird myself to knock them off the fruit before I reach in for a handful of baby romas.
One day last week I was washing a whole basket full of tomatoes when I realized that one of these creatures had traveled home with me. I screeched and reached for my kitchen scrubbie to grab it and squish it. I couldn't do it, so I raced to the back door, squealing in fear as I struggled to make the latch give, and threw the scrubbie out the door with the bug clinging to it. I was covered with goosebumps and ashamed of myself for my overly squeamish behavior. A minute or so later, after I checked the rest of the kitchen counter and sink for more interlopers, I went back out and stomped the bug into the ground. Maybe that wasn't a nice thing for me to do, but it gave me back a feeling of control. I had to take back my world.