The Insect Informer
Vol. 5, Issue 1, 2011

We're delighted to announce that we have made two terrific additions to our editorial field staff.  


As you know, we take great pride in the award winning team we've assembled here at the Insect Informer, and the accolades they've collected over the years is testimony to their expertise.  Last year alone, we collected a record number of BUGGies (Best Underground Green Guide awards) most notably for the heroic work Thomas Blendin did covering the carnage done to the Tomato Hornworm population by a sharp-eyed gardener and his sadistic wife in Waccabuc.  His photographs chronicled the deadly outcome of incomplete camouflage during field maneuvers.  Sadly, Mr. Blendin's award was delivered posthumously.  Although he was well hidden and indistinguishable from the stem of the Brandywine that was his vantage point, a momentary sunglare off the lens of his camera betrayed his location.  With one swift heartless gesture, he was plucked from his perch and unceremoniously squished.


But on to happier news.  Let us introduce the two new staffers.

Ms. Gina Aubrey

Please welcome Gina Aubrey.  She comes to us fresh from a stint at Cornell School of Agriculture where she did her graduate work, and is certified to be destructive to 37 varieties of eggplant in at least 6 languages.  She's already established herself in Waccabuc  and is sending daily dispatches from  several raised beds on Perch Bay Road.  She recently filed a report detailing the feeble attempt to divert insect attention by interplanting eggplant with cucumbers and tomatoes.  Her photography vividly illustrates this strategic failure.

Eggplant after Ms. Aubrey's visit 

We look forward to hearing more tales from Gina about outsmarting the owner of this garden in particular, since this is the scene of the tragic events that took Mr. Blendin's life last year. And we certainly hope she's on her guard at all times -- especially regarding the gardener's merciless wife.  Witnesses reported that Mr. Blendin's final words were faint, but ominous... "I heard her mention Rotenone..."

Mr. Lucas Henry

The other addition we've made is to augment our coverage of flowering bulbs.  Please welcome Lucas Henry.  He brings a unique look to our team (he's a rather flashy dresser) but don't let that fool you -- he's as industrious as he is stylish. He got to work immediately and has made a real impact. On the lillies most dramatically.  He made short work of the three stands of large lillies on the back of the mound at Perch Bay.  And then applied himself to the dwarf lillies in the front of the mound.  

Mr. Henry's handiwork

If you're detecting a bit of a vendetta against this garden and gardeners, you would be right.  And can you blame us?  Not only do we have the aforementioned Mr Blendin in mind, but there was also that episode with the carpet of caterpillars who were happily dining on Creeping Jenny when they were wiped out by a noxious spray of something not entirely organic last year.  So far, the aphids have withstood the classic "Marigold Maneuver,"  and the roses have been treated with that totally useless "green" fungicide we snuck onto the market so successfully.  But with the specter of Rotenone looming, we do declare that the proper approach to the Perch Bay Garden is "no mercy."


We look forward to hearing more from both Gina Aubrey and Lucas Henry in the months to come.

(Real editor's note:  See earlier post for background on the Insect Informer)

Pink... Blue... Pink... Blue

At the very (happy) end of Disney's animated Sleeping Beauty, two of Princess Aurora's fairy godmothers happily watch her waltzing with her prince in her beautiful white ball gown.  Despite the virginal appropriateness of such a chaste color, each godmother wants to magically change the gown to her favorite color.  Flora gets to it first, and with a triumphant flourish of her wand, waves it pink. Merryweather shouts "blue" and changes it back, Flora shouts "Pink," and reverses it again, and so on... Blue, Pink, Blue, Pink, Blue, Pink, as the music fades and the credits roll.  This scene was a source of endless amusement for my older daughter when she was little.  At that time I was powerless to duplicate that sequence, though we tried often enough.

Now, probably a little too late for flights of childish fantasy, the garden in early June seems to bring the spirit of those fairy godmothers to life.  It's all blues and pinks, and makes me think it's more than coincidental that one of the godmothers is named "Flora."

If I close my eyes and pretend I'm twirling in the arms of a prince, I can open them and see pink, close them and twirl further and open to... blue... then pink... then blue...

Like this...



Pink... Peony

Blue... Clematis

Pink... Carpet Rose



Blue... Columbine



Pink... Geranium



Blue... Amsonia

Pink... Foxglove

Blue... Siberian Iris



Pink... Dianthus



 In a few weeks, this palette will change completely.  As the sedum blooms and the daylilies start their display, the colors will heat up to match the summer temperatures, with yellows, oranges and reds filling in as the pinks fade.  Blues should stick around through the transition, that is, they should -- as long as the hydrangea anxiety of early March turns out to be unfounded.  Fingers crossed; we should know soon enough.