White, puffy clouds against blue skies are such a gift. They make gardening serene, so peaceful, except for the slugs. For them, blue skies are a portend of a time of no mercy, no place to hide. With my trusty weed puller in hand, I stab at deep rooted weeds like buttercup, and pull. Their deep roots rip out of the ground with a satisfying ripping sound. And any slugs I encounter get no mercy. See a slug, kill a slug. Gardening can be so ruthless.
The pretty ladybug crawling up my sleeve shows no mercy either. It thinks nothing of eating prey alive. It will stab a poor, helpless aphid, and suck the life out of it.
The payoff for showing no mercy, thick, juicy stalks of rhubarb, hellebore blossoms, kale flower buds for supper, blooming rosemary, and velvety tulips.
