Today was the first dry one after a week of rain, and I’ve been stomping on gypsy moths this afternoon.
Got back from a walk at the beach when my neighbor noticed large, moving, blackish patches on several oak trees. It was legions of gypsy moths.
They stick to anything, including clothing. Their brain seems to be in their rear end – that’s the part that attaches, instantly, apparently to anything. The other day, I caught one crawling on a laptop screen.
I hosed off the mats of gypsy moths, only to find that there were survivors, crawling back up the oak tree trunks within minutes.
The only way to kill them is to crush them, and the heartbreak is when their guts ooze green, proof that they’ve been devouring leaves.
They are a pestilence, and there are millions more this year than before. They seem to have no natural predators, although I have seen ants eating the carcasses.
I’ve pulled at least four dozen of the things off my poor fairy rose this weekend. My grandson, whose school is located on a heavily wooded property, says he’s killed “thousands”, and I can well believe him.
Fortunately, most of the plants in my yard are not suited to the gypsy moth palate, so my gardens are pretty much intact.
I spent part of this morning at #11, spraying poison ivy, another curse, and deadheading the poor pansies, which were done in by the wet. The plants seem to be healthy, though, so maybe I can keep them going until the warmer weather, at which point they’ll need to be replaced anyway.
The rest of the time, I weeded and pruned away plant parts that have gone by, like the lungwort, which was so beautiful just a couple of weeks ago.
Not the most rewarding weekend for a gardener by any means.