Yesterday, I killed. God's own handiwork, just like me, and I snuffed it out.
My Buddhist husband called me out on this, when I told him about it.
What right have I, after all, to take life?
But such is the life of a gardener. As DH says when quoting one of our favorite authors, Barbara Kingsolver, living takes life.
My victims were a covey of black widow spiders, living in some nice, big, 45 gal. size containers (with lids!) that had contained molasses treats for the horses out at the Greensboro farm.
Normally, I'm a catch and release kind of girl. Bees, army flies, and the occasional palmetto bug wander into our teeny-tiny home, and I capture them and take them outside with the admonishment: "Now don't come back in here... and tell all your cousins not to come in, either."
Life is sacred, and I am not willing to say that my life is more important than that of the proverbial sparrow. Or spider. But there comes a time at which I have to admit that living does take life, otherwise, I would be frozen in motion and could not even perform my humble duties as a gardener.
I killed a total of 16 spiders in three containers. The containers will make wonderful compost bins, worm bins, dry storage, etc. The spiders? They made quite a mess.