I wore long sleeves to the farm because it was just kind of chilly. A far, far cry from the whining I was doing when I babbled incoherently about heat exhaustion and dehydration.
Iowa's motto. "Hey, if you don't like the weather, hang around twenty minutes, it'll change."
Picking produce at the high tunnel was the highlight of the day. Kind of. Actually it may haunt my dreams.
I was given the nod to harvest any zucchini that might be ready to go. I bent, looking for large green torpedoish veggies and found instead an insect party on one of the leaves. The leaf right in my face.
Now these weren't just any insects. There were a lot. A lot of creepy paleish, ghostly gray alien-bo
t kind of insects. A lot of them. I eeked and said. "Bugs!"
The farmer might have been able to tell by my tone which ones they were. "Oh, Squash Nymphs. Kill em. Do the Mexican hat dance all over them."
Pretty easy to do, actually, with the adrenaline and all. First I folded up the huge zucchini leaf and crushed the living daylights out of the party. Then did do a modified Mexican hat dance. A) I had no hat. B) I was tangled up in vines about my knees and ankles. C) I needed to KILL a lot of stupid bugs.
The farmer came to help. "There's a bunch." Smash! Bash! POW! Holy Squash Eaters, Batman! She found a mating pair, pointed them out and crushed them.
I recommend squash bug crushing as a stress reliever.
And do you find it odd that I was creeped out by ghostly squash bugs but went gaga over the adorable and HUGE Loess Hills toad that hopped across my path? Hey, I like toads. I prefer my creepy crawlies to have warts and slightly toxic skin.
Pictures of our fabulous haul. (A mere percentage we took home PACKED boxes.) And my infamou
s and filthy Mexican squash bug dance foot.
