This Time Will Be Different… Until I Do It Again
July, 2023
When I was volunteering at my son’s elementary school in California, teaching garden science (adorably named B.U.G.S - Better Understanding of Garden Science), I was impressed with the facilitator’s depth of knowledge. At the time, things like companion planting and farming zones were new to me, and I took copious notes during my onboarding, some of which I still refer to today. I, along with the other volunteers, learned that every insect has its purpose. Notably, we learned how insects utilize their specific gifts to benefit the ecosystem. There are a slew of pollinators, producers, consumers, and decomposers working hard to keep the balance and harmony which we humans depend on for nourishment.
Our BUGS facilitator was emphatic that we made sure that our garden science students knew about the value of every insect. That bee they were scared of? Our food supply depends on it. The annoying ant? It helps improve the soil. The creepy millipede? It plays a crucial role in decomposition of leaf litter and nutrient cycling in soil. So you can imagine my surprise when we were shown a picture of a squash bug and the facilitator said, “If you see one of these, rip its head off.” Surely I misheard. I raised my hand and asked if we were really supposed to kill it. The answer: “Yes, preferably by taking the head off so you can be sure it’s really dead.”
We grew all sorts of squash in the school gardens. Yellow, crookneck, zucchini, summer, butternut, cucumbers - you name it, we grew it. Squash plants are sprawling, vining plants with broad leaves that start out fuzzy and become spikey as they grow. It was cool to see how in just a week, a little crookneck could grow from barely an inch at the end of a blossom to a full-grown fruit (yes, squash is technically a fruit). My students watered and weeded them with care, excited to see what the week’s bounty would look like. Then, one day we went out to the gardens and found lots of wilted leaves. Two days later, the zucchini plant was dead and we were left with an empty section in our plot. The following days brought the same pattern. Wilted leaves one day, dead plant within the next few. Within a few weeks, we had an empty plot and nothing to harvest. Luckily, another 2nd grade class had planted carrots so we were able to help with their plot.
Nature is intelligent. Camouflage works. Squash bugs are so hard to find that if you are lucky enough to grab one and then drop it in the soil by accident, it will be extremely difficult to locate. They lay tiny, golden eggs that hide on the underside of the leaves. Then, the eggs hatch into a minuscule army of squash killers. I loathed squash bugs. When I moved back East with a limited understanding of gardening and farming, I assumed (I know, I know) that Pennsylvania wouldn’t have squash bugs.
Our first summer, I worked hard to build hugelkultur beds to serve as the cornerstone of Helping Friendly Farm. I planted whatever organic veggies were available at the local garden store since we had moved too late to start my own. In other words, I planted a lot of squash. Every variety I named above, and probably more - I grew it. I loved my hugelkultur beds. We ate well. Until I went out to water the garden and saw the yellow squash looking droopy and sad. I Googled with dread… and began my battle with the beetles. I’d go out early in the morning to search and destroy. But, nature always wins. After two weeks we had no more squash and I couldn’t make pickles with the cucumbers I was counting on having in bulk.
The next summer, I was prepared. I started my seeds, along with amassing a stockpile of neem oil, diatomaceous earth, dish soap, baking soda, cayenne, and cinnamon. I transferred the seedlings and was diligent in checking and applying the various natural deterrents as the plants grew strong vines and produced yummy squash. Until I went away for a few days. Then, nature won.
The following summer I not only repeated the application of all the organic pesticides at my disposal, but I built new hugelkultur beds that had never seen a squash bug as far as I knew. There could be no overwintering insects laying dormant in the soil. A clean slate… And still, nature won. At this point, my husband asked why I bothered to plant the squash family plants at all. After all, Nature and her army of beetles had bested me time and again. I paused and thought about the literal sweat and blood I shed for a few weeks of butternut soup, zucchini chips, and pickles. “You’re right,” I told him. “I’m done.”
This is our fourth year as stewards of the land. I thought long and hard about what I had learned from my attempts to thwart nature by continuing to plant what I knew wouldn’t survive the growing season. I decided that radical acceptance was the way to go. I would accept that the squash bugs would eventually kill my plants. I wouldn’t go to great lengths to protect them. I would simply enjoy the few bountiful weeks of harvesting without attachment. So, I did it. I planted a few varieties and let it be. I still check for eggs and beetles, but not obsessively as in prior years. I usually have enough yellow squash and cucumbers for visitors to pick and I’ve made a lot of pickles. All is well.
Practicing radical acceptance is one of the hardest things to do. Being a parent of kids with disabilities/invisible illness means practicing it more than others. Sometimes, no matter how much we try to give our children the tools they need to thrive, it still isn’t enough. Those times can be dark, the feelings of despair all-consuming. Other times, those tools are enough. Sometimes our children amaze us and our hearts are fuller than others could imagine. As parents, we try to remain optimistic and teach resilience. I will never give up fighting for services, for resources, and for a cure. That doesn’t mean that sometimes things don’t feel too heavy and outlooks don’t look bleak. It just means that I have to accept this life, this day, this moment, instead of worrying about something out of my control. My energies are better used in other ways. Like planting pumpkins directly into the ground and hoping the squash bugs don’t find them. This time will be different…