In the end the worms won out. Despite my concern and my preparations, the petals and swelling ovules of my two tallest pears became black, cobwebby nests for fat, curled-up caterpillars. Up and down the stems, a wasteland of failed fruit as well as leaves perforated and gritty with frass. A debacle.
The same happened last year, and I swore then that...but in vain. I don't know my enemy. Where do you little tubby tubes come from? From below in the soil near the base of the tree? From the air: eggs laid by flies? I sprayed soap mixtures bellow but nothing above.
The survivor of last year's attack is doing well. Perhaps you newer trees will also adapt and learn to resist, but now I know what I'm looking for and when: never again. I failed you, though, this spring and I'm sad.
The same happened last year, and I swore then that...but in vain. I don't know my enemy. Where do you little tubby tubes come from? From below in the soil near the base of the tree? From the air: eggs laid by flies? I sprayed soap mixtures bellow but nothing above.
The survivor of last year's attack is doing well. Perhaps you newer trees will also adapt and learn to resist, but now I know what I'm looking for and when: never again. I failed you, though, this spring and I'm sad.
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