Worst Pest Experience

I remember growing up as a young girl in Simi Valley, CA. We lived in a newly developed neighborhood amongst a vast number of orange groves. The town was relatively new. There weren't many tracks of homes built yet, so unfortunately there were a lot of grasshoppers. I remember these ugly, large, brown creatures crawling up the walls of my house. They were on the fences, in the street, and sometimes even floating in the pool. They were everywhere. I can't quite remember any particular catastrophe concerning these dreadful insects but one thing is for certain, I am a grownup now, with a grasshopper phobia.
Because of my irrational fear of grasshoppers I've never been big on gardening. No matter how beautiful my next door neighbor's yard is, I can't seem to get myself to plant anything of real beauty in my yard. Gardens have to be tended to and I know where grasshoppers live. Needless to say I am a huge fan of the rock garden. Looking back quite a few years I am reminded of the first house my husband and I purchased. There were definitely too many trees for my liking, so I immediately hired a gardener to do my trimming. Of course I put him in charge of all the outdoor chores. There was however a large rose bush that lined the back wall. It was a pretty bush with gorgeous yellow roses. The gardener informed me that the flowers would grow bigger, brighter and more often if I kept the tree pruned. I asked him, of course, why he didn't do it for me; he mentioned something about upping the cost and not really having the time. God knew there was no way I was trimming any rose bush so I just decided I didn't care what the yellow roses looked like or even whether or not they grew. In fact, I opted to have the whole tree taken out. A few months later after ignoring the bush completely I noticed one lone flower growing in the midst of the tree. It looked so pretty there all alone and I thought what a shame that there wasn't more of this beautiful flower growing. Suddenly it came to me that if I'd trim that tree as I had been advised, then the tree would spring forth more beauty. "Okay." I said to myself. "I'll trim the tree." It wasn't the best time of year for trimming trees. It was a warm day in the middle of September, perfect grasshopper weather. But I got my clippers, my gloves and I set out to bring beauty to my backyard. First I got the hose and drenched the bush from top to bottom and side to side. I was certain if there were any pesky creatures in there they would definitely fly away. Of course I stood back quite a ways in case something did fly out at me I could quickly run into the house. But nothing ever did fly and I assumed I was safe. So I began trimming that tree. I wish I could say I had a good time. I know many people get great pleasure out of gardening, but my fear would not allow me to relax. I could not get rid of the thought that a grasshopper would fly out of the bush and land on my arm. I had a grasshopper land on my arm once when I was twelve, and it wouldn't come off. I was in seventh grade at tennis practice. I was minding my own business hitting tennis balls against the backboard when suddenly a three inch long grasshopper jumped on my arm. I tried brushing it off but its suction feet held fast. I then with all my might smacked the creature as hard as I could and it finally flew away. The trauma of that incident remained embedded in my brain even until this day as a young married adult.
But I kept on trimming that bush, starting from the top on down, and then moving over a little at a time towards the other side. By the time I was finished with my job; my husband was home from work. He came out to see what I was doing and was quite proud to see the rose bush trimmed and looking so nice. Of course my husband didn't understand my phobia. I mean, no one really did. As he approached me I turned around to show him what a great job I had done. But when I turned to walk towards the bush my husband called me back. He said to me, "Don't move." And he proceeded to remove something from my back. Of course I hollered, "What is it?" But he would not tell me. He said, "Nothing, don't worry about it," and continued to praise my work some more. Because I was an intelligent human being and not the stupid nave girl he obviously thought I was I knew he had just taken a grasshopper off my back. Although I will never know for sure, being 99% convinced, that was the last day I ever did gardening. It wasn't long before I had the bush removed as well as every other small bush and tree in both yards. My husband and I have a rule; if he desires to see beauty growing in the yards, he must not only plant the flowers, he must take care of them also. Don't get me wrong. I love flowers growing in an open field. I have also been to flower gardens that have taken my breath away. I would give anything to line my front walk with purple, violets and blues; but until God decides to send all the grasshoppers to another country, which mind you, I pray for daily, I will stick to the indoors where I know I am safe and sound; not from dogs, not from snakes or lizards, not even from criminal ax murderers, but I am safe from those long, brown, ugly, creatures called grasshoppers.