Gul-durnit!

This is a real problem! I thought the nomming would stop when the weather changed...but the weather never changes inside the hoop house. I picked off one particularly well-fed fellow yesterday and held him aloft. He was curled around the tip of the straw I'd used, and in the golden sun of late fall, his little yellow dashes seemed particularly dashing, and his collard-colored skin looked vibrant and velvety. I sighed and put him back in the hoop house. It's his only little life, you know? He only gets one, I only get one.