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HawkMoths and Sacred Datura: A Relationship in Moonlight (aka:Tomato Horned Worms are Cool)
On the one ton temple bell
a moon-moth, folded into sleep
sits still
~Buson
When I was a girl, my summers were spent with my grandparents in Los Angeles. They were avid gardeners. In fact, their little backyard was not enough for their avocation and for most of my childhood, they rented the neighbor’s backyard for a small sum plus produce. I remember the stalks of corn, the prolific squash and okra, snap peas and a constant bucket of manure and water, curing, luke warm in the sun. There were also tomatoes. Many, many tomatoes.
Early in the morning, I would follow my grandmother onto the damp earth paths between rows of verdant green vegetables. She would be barefoot, carrying a cup of coffee in one thick skinned hand and scissors in the other. The sun was just rising but the nocturnal creatures were still moving about in the sleepy morning dewlight. In the tomato patch, she would deftly move into the thick vines and with a crisp swirl of metal, quickly cut through the horned tomato worms, slicing them in half. And that was that. There was no ceremony. My grandmother was one of the kindest beings I knew. But she was a merciless murderer of horned worms.
When I became aware of the lifecycle of moths and butterflies, I once asked her if she…
