That delightful trio of grubs is a tiny reminder of the legion of Biblical plagues besetting the hapless gardener. (Maybe it was my recent allusion to the non-rapture, but Job does spring to mind.) We have a lot of grubs- millions of them. They all seem to live in the area designated "The Agricultural Triangle"... doesn't that just figure? So every time we turn over a shovelful of soil, there's got to be a dozen grubs. Squishing them is tedious and disgusting but terminal!
And that leads to a less noxious pest- the simple small rock.
Okay, so rocks aren't gross outs like grubs, but there's more of them. For every grub, we have six rocks. And they're not pretty or glittery; these are the "garden variety" (hahahaha) lumpy little brown things.
And as far as dangerous plant life goes, check out the poison ivy. It's everywhere! Both Bob and I have succumbed to itchy, oozey skin eruptions.
The vines ascending the pine trees are like thick hairy legs. They have these amazing trunks and are actually intimidating. We've been carefully lopping them off so that the vines die, but they seem to sprout more. We are not inclined to resort to poisons...
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