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Squash borers:
Yesterday I checked on my tiny garden. I have 2 squash plants, three, if you count the one that doesn’t count. It's been stunted from its beginnings. I left it as a decoy, hoping the bugs would pick on it because it wasn't big enough to defend itself. Sounds cruel, doesn't it?
Long ago,waay back in the 70's, my mother gave me a book called Peacock Manure and Marigolds. It was a book about organic gardening. It was the beginning of the end for me. That book took me down the path where I now live. I'm a compulsive gardener. The book told of order, the system, the protective mechanisms of plants and animals, the cycle of the garden and its intelligence.
Somewhere I read about squash borers. I’ll never forget the thrill I experienced when I saved my first squash plant from the pernicious attacker. I inspired myself by becoming a plant rescuer and a squash borer murderer.
Somewhere I read about squash borers. I’ll never forget the thrill I experienced when I saved my first squash plant from the pernicious attacker. I inspired myself by becoming a plant rescuer and a squash borer murderer.
I haven’t grown my own squash in years. In fact, my little house in the city has a yard that’s mostly shade. But for a couple of years I’ve been longing for a few vegetable plants, especially tomatoes. I tried tomatoes in pots and I tried them in a small sunny spot next to my neighbor's clematis vines, but nothing happened. I guess I wasn’t serious enough about it. But last fall I had a revelation. I began watching the tilt and pattern of the sunlight in the narrow stretch of hedge that ran beside my house. It was almost full sun. The only problem was that there were 12-foot, 40-year-old overgrown hedges claiming that space, and I had to make my decision as to whether or not to go to war with them.
Go to war I did. I have a handsaw. One of these days I’m going to have my own chain saw, but for now my handsaw will have to do. Before it got too hot, sawing was my morning garden project. Let me tell you, a lumberjack has to be the strongest person in the world. Sawing is exhausting. But bit by bit I took down these overgrown hedges with trunks like trees that took hours to saw through. I hauled it all to the street and within a couple of weeks I could see the future garden site. In the early spring there was only full sun in one small strip, but as the sun’s elliptical path changed to its summer course, the patch became an ideal plot for tomatoes, eggplant, squash and peppers.
I check my vegetables every day for enemies. I found one tomato horned worm about a month ago. I took the big green worm off my plant and put it on a fence post hoping some bird might find him delectable. It worked. I checked back in a few minutes and the worm was nowhere to be seen and I thought I heard a bird saying "Yummy."
I hadn’t really checked on the squash plants until yesterday. I guess I was in denial.. I guess I was hoping there weren’t squash borers within Memphis city limits, but I'd noticed the leaves wilting even when I'd just watered. So I went out and got down on my knees and looked closely at the base of the plants. There it was. The trail of sawdust the books tell you to look for. The little varmints had bored into almost every single stem of both my plants. It was time to go to the kitchen and get my paring knife.
I don't know where I read about this type of plant surgery, but it's right up my alley. I don't want to use pesticides in my garden so I'm always looking for ways to keep plants healthy without them.
Step 1. I looked at the base of the squash plants and saw the gooey sawdust-like substance that is a dead giveaway. It's just like the sawdust a drill makes. It's the evidence that the worm has bored through the stem and is getting fat on the juices the squash plant is bringing up from its roots. These juices are supposed to be feeding the leaves and the blooms and ultimately the baby squash plants. I took my knife and cut open the stem right above the borer hole. Gotcha! There he was: fat, round, pale, slimy with a sinister black head. Boy, was that bug surprised. I had to kill it. I'll spare you the details.
Go to war I did. I have a handsaw. One of these days I’m going to have my own chain saw, but for now my handsaw will have to do. Before it got too hot, sawing was my morning garden project. Let me tell you, a lumberjack has to be the strongest person in the world. Sawing is exhausting. But bit by bit I took down these overgrown hedges with trunks like trees that took hours to saw through. I hauled it all to the street and within a couple of weeks I could see the future garden site. In the early spring there was only full sun in one small strip, but as the sun’s elliptical path changed to its summer course, the patch became an ideal plot for tomatoes, eggplant, squash and peppers.
I check my vegetables every day for enemies. I found one tomato horned worm about a month ago. I took the big green worm off my plant and put it on a fence post hoping some bird might find him delectable. It worked. I checked back in a few minutes and the worm was nowhere to be seen and I thought I heard a bird saying "Yummy."
I hadn’t really checked on the squash plants until yesterday. I guess I was in denial.. I guess I was hoping there weren’t squash borers within Memphis city limits, but I'd noticed the leaves wilting even when I'd just watered. So I went out and got down on my knees and looked closely at the base of the plants. There it was. The trail of sawdust the books tell you to look for. The little varmints had bored into almost every single stem of both my plants. It was time to go to the kitchen and get my paring knife.
I don't know where I read about this type of plant surgery, but it's right up my alley. I don't want to use pesticides in my garden so I'm always looking for ways to keep plants healthy without them.
Step 1. I looked at the base of the squash plants and saw the gooey sawdust-like substance that is a dead giveaway. It's just like the sawdust a drill makes. It's the evidence that the worm has bored through the stem and is getting fat on the juices the squash plant is bringing up from its roots. These juices are supposed to be feeding the leaves and the blooms and ultimately the baby squash plants. I took my knife and cut open the stem right above the borer hole. Gotcha! There he was: fat, round, pale, slimy with a sinister black head. Boy, was that bug surprised. I had to kill it. I'll spare you the details.
After I checked each stem and killed about 4 more borers, I got a couple of buckets of dirt and reburied the stems and watered the plants.
I checked them again this morning and found two more borers. I think they're ok now.
I checked them again this morning and found two more borers. I think they're ok now.
As I'm getting older I find myself becoming more content with my eccentricity. I don't even call it that, but I'm pretty sure my neighbors do. I don't even think about it being odd that I wake up every morning and the first thing I do is get my coffee and go to the garden. I stay outside until the heat of the day. Late in the afternoons I'm back outside puttering, digging, planting, dreaming. In all the world it is where I'm most at home, most content, most carefree; here near my dirt, listening to my marigolds and wishing I had a peacock to go with it.
