You married a garden killer, dear

“You think you know somebody.”

That was my spouse today – about me. And not a compliment. I’d just returned from slaughtering tobacco hornworms.

My little garden has flourished this year, producing more bounty than in my earlier, hapless attempts at amateur farming.

And get this: my spouse has enjoyed that bounty, a small cornucopia of lettuce, tomatoes and cucumbers.

And now she feels sorry for hornworms?!

Hornworms aren’t worms at all. They’re caterpillars of a species of large moth.

I saw the first on Sunday. It was as long and chubby as a middle finger – and I nearly showed it one of mine. Instead, I plucked it from the sport pepper plant it had shorn of leaves.

I dispatched the marauder to the Caterpillar Great Beyond.

Then, over the next three days, I found and dispatched 15 more, especially from tomato plants. Hornworms are cows of the vine – and utterly destructive. They plundered. I hunted.

“I feel bad for them,” my wife said after one of my safaris into the garden.

Yes, dear. You married a killer. Enjoy the tomatoes.