leafcutter ovenbird My hosta was attacked while I was away. I came home to find missing chunks as round and mysterious as crop circles along the leaf margins. They were so precise that I couldn’t imagine them being made by anything alive. Slugs eat messy holes, turning leaves to lace. This looked mechanical, as if my hosta had been fed through a machine. The “machine,” I eventually discovered, was leafcutter bees. And I’m completely delighted that they decided to visit my yard. My great regret was not being able to watch them in action, sawing circles from my hosta and taking them away to build the cells of their nests. The world is full of so many love_letters if you’re willing to look closely. I imagine taking a hole puncher to my garden, and typing them out a letter in return. It would say, “I’m very glad you came to visit. Please help yourself to anything you find here. I hope the summer is long and your nests are safe. I hope you know that the emptiness you leave, as a function of your life’s work, is beautiful. I see the delicate enigma of your labour. Don’t let anyone tell you it isn’t art. This is what your body does. It’s what you’re made for. And I’d rather behold this mastery than almost anything I could find in a gallery. Please return and tell me a story made of absences.” 260809 what's it to you? who go blather from