Every time the air warms, stink bugs begin crawling. One of them woke me the other night with a French kiss, about 2 a.m. I spit it across the room and within a couple minutes found another one, or maybe the same one, taking a walk on my neck.
I understand these guys crossed the U.S. welcome mat in 1998. Like kudzu, they forgot to apply for green cards. Now they're permanent residents, attacking orchards, hopefully not mine. Talk about immigration reform.
Some people turn down our addition of cilantro to salads, saying cilantro smells like stink bugs. There's some truth to that. My 2 a.m. friend tasted something like cilantro.
"Sounds delicious," says Virginia. "I think they're maligned."
Not if they kill fruit trees. Keri, our Great Pyrenees, joined us because of fruit poachers. We may have to train Yogi, our African gray parrot, to guard the orchard. Or the chickens. Maybe that's why their eggs have taken on a different flavor (just kidding).
The Bowman Women; A Work In Progress
1 week ago