It began all quite innocently. Forever one to attempt to justify my housewifery and keep spending to a minimum, I decided it was time to be more homely and practical. After some years of thinking about it, last Monday afternoon, on something of a whim, I decided to plant a vegetable garden. I didn't have much time before school pick up so I leaped in the car and travelled not too far to the nearest garden shop. The selection wasn't great, Autumn was fast approaching (and has since begun) so my choices were limited. I grabbed what can only be described as a collection of "windy vegetable" seedlings, more specifically broccoli, onions, spring onions, brussell sprouts and leeks. I also bought a "herb to warn off insects" and because I spotted some there, a swan plant as my Rabbit has often begged for one.
I'd previously sworn to never again have swan plants. Like many good parents I'd previously planted some, only to find that I cultured far too many caterpillars for the leaves available and spent weeks in mad panic searching for further plants, no longer at bargain basement prices, and being completely taken advantage of by plant sellers who KNEW that good mothers would never let small children see the death of pet caterpillars and would fork out vast sums of money to maintain childhood innocence. But I digress. I bought my child ONE swan plant and paid the sum of $35 dollars for a number of plants which no doubt I could have spent on the same number of vegetables.
I then got back in my car and decided on the way home to stop at the fruit and vege shop. This turned out to be good and bad. Good, because I discovered I could get garden fertiliser there at a very good price and I needed some. BAD, because they also had a selection of windy vegetable seedlings at a far, FAR better price. I bought some. I bought a cabbage and cauliflower and broccoli six pack, some spinach, some celery, and, don't ask me why, another swan plant. I also bought some fruit, paid a further $30 and set about on my way home.
With quite some effort I got the bags of fertiliser, or compost, or whatever it is supposed to be called, around the back of the house by the garden and took all my wee trays of seedlings and set about planning my vegetable garden. It isn't a big garden and I didn't have much time. I dug out the garden weedery, leaving only strawberry plants from my efforts three years back when we first moved into our house, I dug in the compost stuff and began planting my windy vegetables. I didn't have nearly enough space to particularly adhere to the planting instructions and before I knew it I had to make a mad, filthy dash to the school to pick up my five year old.
As she always asks, I was pleased to be able to tell her that yes, I did have something special organised for her, but first we would have to go to the great green shed of annoying 'picture not photo' circulars, Bunnings, in order to get some supplies. I'm not a huge fan of Bunnings, although some people are addicts. I can't necessarily pin that down to anything but the aforementioned circulars (if only they had photos) and the DIY addicts themselves who flock to the place routinely at 10am on Sunday mornings for service, being self service and hardware. On this occasion I bought a $12 hose, including attachments, some snail pellets, some white butterfly dust and some flower bulbs for the Rabbit to plant. I handed over yet another $30. My money saving exploits were not necessarily giving me budgetary comfort. Home we went.
The Rabbit was DELIGHTED when she saw the swan plants. "Oh Mummy" she gushed "I have ALWAYS wanted my own butterflies. How did you know?" I reminded her that she begged for them often and went on to show her the garden I was planting, anticipating that she'd like to help. I sent her in to change and I returned to my vege garden, planning on planting the rest of my seedlings. NOT the best supervisory decision. As I planted, the Rabbit also planted, but she was down the other end of the section, without my knowledge "planting" or should I say "destroying" the swan plants. I sort of rescued them, one week on neither looks spectacular. Much to my daughter's distress, neither has caterpillars. This actually causes me some relief as I remember the horrors of last time.
Having kind of rescued the swan plants from the gardening gremlin, I managed to plant almost all of my windy vegetables in my tiny vege patch, as neatly and as almost spaced as I could possibly manage. I have to say I was proud, the Rabbit was proud. We attached our new hose, watered our little garden, sprinkled our snail pellets, and dusted our white butterfly dust. We stepped back, admired our work and took a few photos. "I can't wait to see them grow Mummy" said my cherub. I admit it, I felt like a good Mummy. An earthy Mummy. A superior Mummy of sorts. Little did I know the carnage I had unleashed.
I have added a photo of my little garden. It is a little garden, planted at a cost of outrageously expensive outlayings but the Rabbit and I have high hopes of reward. I can't say, however, that I could ever have anticipated what happened next. Or should I say, the following day. Children can learn many things from a home vegetable garden: the scientifics of how and where our food comes from; the photosynthesis of plants; reaping what we sow; being what we eat AND, as it turns out, how to be a mass murderer and how to count bodies.
I think you can see from the picture, and as I keep saying, it is NOT a big garden. As I was planting the garden I saw one spider (I didn't even scream or get girly, I just breathed) and not one earthworm. I saw a naughty white butterfly so I took great precautions. I don't remember seeing one snail but I precautioned against those too. And so I ask you, how many snails would you expect to see on your very small garden patch in the course of your vegetables' growing life? In your wildest dreams, how many dead snails would you expect to find the day after you planted your garden and what size a corpse collection would you expect to be showing your small, lovely daughter less than twenty four hours after the garden is planted? Is there a number you would find disturbing?
It turns out my neighbourhood is not as ordinary as I had thought. To the naked eye it looks calm and no scary music is playing. There is nothing to make you suspect that you are in the middle of your very own science fiction movie and that lurking, I expect, freaking EVERYWHERE and watching you are killer snails in their hundreds just waiting to eat you while you are asleep. I admit, I am now afraid. I am hearing music. I can only say thank goodness for the snail pellets. I don't know about you, but the morning after I planted the vegetable garden I did NOT expect to find more than one snail body. Around no more than 5 or 6 plants, however, I found the dead and dying shells of 41 snails. I have not got my numbers back to front. Forty ONE snails lay fizzing and squirming and still in my garden. It was mass murder on a scale I could never have anticipated. It was not a lesson I wished to teach my daughter.
When faced with the predicament of removing the bodies from the scene and hiding my killing spree or leaving them there to warn other windy vegetable liking snails to beware and stay away, I decided removal was best. Mainly to mitigate any damage I'd done to my dear little Rabbit who really likes snails. As the days have gone on, however, it turns out the 41 snails were a small number of the many passing through. Seemingly from out of nowhere, in 7 days maybe 150 snails have tried to eat my seedlings. I am wanted in Snail Court to face trial for the deaths, so far, of those 150 snails. In my marvellous act of mummying housewifery, I may never sleep easy again.
lmao oh nooooo!!!!!
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