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The death of a camellia

January 7, 2008

She was beautiful, sure. But she had a nasty little secret. So I had to kill her.

I even felt a little guilty as the saw tore through the big pieces, and then again as I hacked up the big pieces into smaller, more dumpable pieces.

Revenge has been served.

As the few red flowers were crushed under the weight of the toppling bush, some petals scattering in the breeze, I wavered. Too late now, anyway. But there under the leaves, still, after many months, was the evidence of the havoc that she wreaked on us this autumn and last – tens of thousands of dead and extremely hairy caterpillars for whom the camellia had been such plentiful food and impenetrable haven.

But the hair of long dead caterpillars has much the same effect on humans as the hair of live, squirming caterpillars, it seems. This morning I look like I have chickenpox. Or the last stages of a terminal hard drug habit. And I see the world through bright red eyes.

Form an orderly queue, ladies.

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. Mum permalink
    January 7, 2008 9:49 pm

    I did wonder about that when you said you’d been hacking the camellia bush to death

    But ………………………………….

    Bring on the calamine lotion!!

    So who was taking revenge on who?

  2. overoften permalink*
    January 8, 2008 8:10 am

    And it hasn’t finished yet – I’ve still got to get the remnants to the dump. Gonna build myself a suit of armour.

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