... stomping on big black grasshoppers that are just asking for death by sitting out on the driveway when I come home. I know it sounds absolutely disgusting and repulsive. I apologize, most sincerely sorry if your sensitivities are cringing at the thought. But chasing them across the concrete apron and finally giving them a good stomp is very satisfying.
Also probably quite amusing to watch if you are standing in the house gazing out the window. Seeing me hopping about in the drive, jumping around as the insects industriously try to escape certain death. I often get tickled myself, thinking of how comical it would be to an onlooker: hop, stomp, hop-stomp, hopstomp.
There are lots of dessicated crispy shells of large insects scattered across the paving and grassy lawn in front of the house. I think they are one of those creatures that have an exoskeleton, so that part you see on the outside is what holds it all together? The most gratifying part of knowing they are deceased is the assurance of preventing their children from hatching next spring to devour plants and flowering things. They are voracious, in a Biblical sense, can completely clean every leaf off a plant in a matter of hours when there are enough of them at work. Plus, when they munch their way through blooms, they are consuming the food I deliberately planted to attract pollinators.
I honestly believe I have stomped upon one or more every single day for the past month. There have been times when I have gotten a double: stomping on a pair as they were mating. So got the guy, who was on the girl (he likely promised to respect as much tomorrow as he did before he talked her into letting him in her pants). Whereupon they met their demise long before she could plant her eggs that would hatch and turn into an eating machine, gobbling my plants next spring. Very satisfying.
No comments:
Post a Comment