The flower vendor pointed to this morning's prize and said, "When you finish, I'll have to kill it 'cause it's eating my flower!" I suggested she leave him be: "Someone will want to take him home!" I pleaded.
This little brown fellow, submerged in blossom, is a Yellow-striped Armyworm Moth (Spodoptera ornithogalli) caterpillar. If he becomes a moth, he will wear a spectacular wooly cloak of variegated tan and gray, looking like the first cousin of a fellow I photographed last November.
Pests to gardeners they may be, but the caterpillar reminds me of a lozenge butterscotch candy and the moth of a Dickensian character wrapped against winter.
I took my pictures and wandered back to my scone table, knowing that by the time I sat down, she would have carried through with her promise. A swift death, I hope, while still buried in gold.
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