Before they learn to fly, they have to crawl

If you're freaked out by creepy-crawly critters, consider this a Halloween trick. If you like them, though, it'll be a treat.

I think of caterpillars as spring or summer insects, but a lot of them actually live late into the year and overwinter as pupae. I've seen some new (to me) in the garden in the past couple of months.

This one was on a hawthorn tree I cut down at the end of August. At first I thought it was eating (or being eaten by) a ladybug, then realized the "ladybug" was the caterpillar's head:



I took the photo to the county fair and asked around the agricultural building, with no luck. A friend identified it as a hawk moth larva, but that turned out to be wrong. I finally found it online. It's a beautiful wood nymph -- not to be confused with the pearly wood nymph, though the mistake would be understandable. (Check out the tagline at the top of that site, by the way.)

I don't think I've ever seen one of the adults. I believe I would remember a moth that looks like a stretched-out piece of bird poop.

The second crawler I found was a BIG caterpillar, almost the size of my thumb, covered in scary black spines:



I did a Web search on this one and found it right away. It's a giant leopard moth, a beautiful wedge-shaped black and white moth which I have seen on my front porch. Until I find my photo, however, here's a link. I wasn't brave enough to pick it up with my bare hands, though, like he did (after determining it was harmless).

While pulling up my dead zucchini plants the other day, I disturbed a fuzzy white caterpillar with tan and black markings:



I've since identified it as a hickory tussock moth. It was downright cute -- reminded me of a little fluffy baby animal, like maybe a bunny, all soft and cuddly. I watched it for a while until it uncurled itself and resumed its epic journey across the garden.



Turns out it's a good thing I only looked and didn't try to cuddle this little guy. Those hairs are poisonous and cause a nasty rash!

Before the frost

Okay, I'm still in mourning, but I'm pretty much over the denial phase. I've moved into the acceptance phase. I'm ready to look back at what I lost.

On October 11, before the killing frost, I took a few photos of some late bloomers, including these white dahlias:



They're now black and ready to be dug up and stored for the winter, along with some pink ones and a couple of cannas that I had in pots.

The pole beans not only had lots of beans ready to pick, but were still loaded with blossoms and promise:



At least I picked those that were ready, so we enjoyed a couple more dinners with them. I even had enough to put two meals' worth into the freezer.

The strawberries put out lots of runners. I still have to decide where they're going to go next year (and convince them of it).



Some wildflowers were experiencing a second season, like this chicory:



I even found a big mustard plant that kept blossoming right through the killing frost and is still going strong (this photo is from October 19 -- the dark green behind it is the dead pole beans):



And last but not least, an update on the walking onion. The tops reached the ground, rooted and sprouted, so I now have about a dozen new clumps. One more thing to reposition before the snow flies. And one more thing to taste, too -- I plan to use the parent onions in a dish yet to be determined ...

The REALLY dark tea-time of the soul

That's what my garden is in now. And, consequently, where I am, too. The dark season of destruction, endings and death. Most people know it as autumn.

I haven't blogged because it was just too depressing -- first the rain, then the tomato blight, then the frost.

Oh, woe is me; self-pity, sadness and sorrow. I didn't even want to go outside after the first frost, and we've had a few this month.

We had plenty of beans and cucumbers through the summer, and I even got a few strawberries off the first-year plants. My rosemary did beautifully and is now in pots on the front porch, along with some scraggly basil and a wilting Stevia.

The thyme never recovered from its early-summer haircut, though, and the sage died in situ. I managed a few tomatoes before the blight, but never got to do my salsa or the tomatoes, basil and mozzarella that I look forward to every year.

My pole beans, yellow squash and beautiful Lungo Bianco di Sicilia zucchini vine made it through the first light frost, but I didn't know about the second (harder) frost until midnight. I tried to cover the vine, but it was too late.

I did pick a few beans just before the hard frost, and one yellow squash, which awaits shredding and freezing.

Overall, especially with the tomato blight, I'd say this year's garden was a bust. The high point, however, was this white zucchini (actually light green), my only fruit from the many yards of vine:




I let it grow on the tomato cage until it touched the ground, then picked it so it wouldn't rot. I don't know how big it would have gotten if I'd had a taller tomato cage; it was over 3 feet long at harvest. I used half of it to make this confetti casserole, and the other half went into the freezer (shredded):



Confetti Casserole

2 small to medium zucchini*
1 medium summer squash
4 or 5 carrots
1 good-sized shallot
3 or 4 Roma tomatoes
1/2 lb. shredded cheese (mozzarella or mixed)
1 cup chicken or vegetable broth
1 cup couscous
1 tsp. herbes de Provence (or Italian seasoning)
olive oil

Grease 11"x13" casserole pan with olive oil.
Finely shred zucchini, summer squash and carrots in food processor or by hand.
Finely chop shallot and tomatoes.
Mix vegetables, cheese, couscous, broth and seasoning in large bowl. Spoon into casserole and smooth surface flat.
Bake at 375 F for about an hour. Serve hot.

This can be made vegetarian with vegetable broth, or even vegan with soy cheese. Or it can go the other way with the addition of cooked chicken or other meat for a main dish.

*or half of a 3-foot Lungo Bianco di Sicilia!