Bigfoot is back and is rooting in my lawn like a pig at its trough. Enough already!
When last we left the garden at Fort Chapman, Mr. Possum and Mr. Skunk had been sent on their way(s), and peace had returned to the tranquil setting surrounding the bucolic fort.
Unfortunately, the two miscreants appear to have had relatives who stuck around to wreak their revenge with a further round of divot tossing. After a break of four or five days, the mysterious, curiously invisible creatures have struck once again.
The lawn had just been beginning to heal ...
An elderly gardener I met at a luncheon recently, who looked a little bit like Miss Marple, heard my tale of woe and said nothing until I got up to leave.
"I have just two words for you, young lady," she said. "Beneficial nematodes."
"Yes, they will eat your lawn grubs and solve your problem. Make sure they've been refrigerated."
I must look into this. Nematodes are a totally gross kind of round worm and they were the culprits that ate my impatiens in Florida. Discovering beneficial ones that need to be chilled, like wine, is a new one on me.
But its either that, spend several hundred more dollars on Andy-the-Trapper in an on-going hunt for recalcitrant suburban game, or ... where the heck did I put my father's service revolver?