Hot, hot ladybug action

The bright flashes of red on the sunflower leaves caught my eye as I passed by the bed. First one, then two, then it was as if my eye had calibrated to pick them up, and the ladybugs were everywhere, scattered amidst the leaves like water droplets.

Ladybugs and I have a troubled history: I used to try to catch them as a kid, and it seemed like more often than not they’d poop on my hand or fly away almost immediately. So I’ve learned, through experience, to just watch. Let the ladybugs do their own thing.

Which, as it turns out, they were.

Over on a leaf near the edge of the garden, I noticed a bright red, misshapen dot, so moved closer to get a better look. And then, I had to avert my eyes.

Before me? Hot, hot ladybug-on-ladybug action. Right there in the Victory Garden.

I probably should have given them their privacy, but instead I did what any self-respecting documentarian would do. I took pictures. I even tried to get some video, but my ladybug skin flick came out too blurry for prime time.

Eventually I left them to their own devices and headed back toward the stage end of the garden, where Kelsey, the Garden Educator on duty, was talking to a visitor. I waited, discreetly, until the visitor had wandered off amidst the vegetables, and said, “I just saw some ladybug sex over there in the sunflower bed.”

“Were they eating the aphids, too?” Kelsey asked.

“They were a little too busy,” I said.

“This is very, very good,” he said. “The more ladybugs, the better for the plants.”

“And the more entertaining for the garden visitors,” I said.

“Maybe we need some ladybug Viagra,” he said.