Sipp recalls his Mom's rose hedge:
The overgrown thing had taken on a corroded aspect from the depredations of the beetles; it looked like a leprous dragon, smelled like a grandmother, and pinched like a mortgage when you touched it looking for errant shuttlecocks or wiffleballs.
What happened to all of those Japanese Beetles that used to eat the roses? I haven't seen one in years. My Mom used to send us out to pick them off of her roses and drop them in little jars of gasoline. Like picking blueberries.