One part of moving to a new continent is getting to know the strange and remarkable flora and fauna. I gave up on trying to grow sweet peas and hollyhocks, but tomatoes were a joy to grow in the U.S., and I couldn't foresee any difficulty with parsley. Ah! "The best-laid plans o' mice and men.." But is it a bad thing that we can't control the outcomes of our endeavours?
What a shock, after the parsley would not come up, though we watered it daily and pinched its weeds, after we'd given up hope, yet stubbornly watered on, finally seeing the row of reddish nubs like sleepy monks rising from the earth, their tight green curls askew, and we had rejoiced, and tended, and watched the serrated row fill out; what a shock to step into the garden and see them gone - eaten back to bareness - and fat striped caterpillars belching, as we imagined, in their place.
What were these pillagers? We knew what they ate. Against all reason we bought more parsley from the store to feed them in a screened bucket until they cocooned. Then, what a shock, one morning, to see the bucket full of Swallowtails! Great blue and gold wings quivering, gorgeous! We let them climb our hands, dry off in the sun, and go. I don't know. You plant parsley seeds, you get nothing but trouble and glory.