Wulf's non-Glog Kill Log. ... A Klog.

I bring you this information amidst much mockery and questioning of my sexuality and virility, but my wife can shut up about it if she knows what's good for her.
 
Yes.  You.  Go to bed.
 
http://50.72.217.75:83/Peppers/klog/
 
This shall document my war against the aphids in my basement.  The bards shall tell stories across the ages.  Women shall want me, and men will want to be me.
 
Highlights:
The few actual peppers currently growing.
The spray of choice.
The aphids in their natural habitat.
Weird stuff on some of the bigger plants, originally grown at my cousins.  Likely a new form of death from my plants that I've now imported.
Zoomed aphid, RIGHT IN YOUR FACEHOLES.
 
 
 
 
We join our intrepid hero near the start of the second wave of this battle.  The plants badly need to be repotted, but I am hoping to win the war before getting them into proper pots and having 200x more plant matter to scour for aphids.
 
I 'won' the first wave by cutting off every single leaf that showed any sign of an aphid, and squishing any I saw directly.  That put them down for about a week.  Then they spread to the big plants.  Once again, I cut every leaf and squished every one, then the next day there was yet another visible infestation.
 
This time, I went to the local hippy store and grabbed some spray.  He said to use it 1-2 times per day for a week (roughly, he used less round numbers).  So, we shall see what we shall see.
 
FOR TREEEEEEEEDOOOOOOOOM!

 

[Wulf]

"We don't know who struck first, us or them.
But we do know it was us that scorched the plants.
At the time, they were dependent on pepper power.
It was believed they would be unable to survive without an energy source as abundant as the peppers."
 
 
The skeletal branches of my plants have leaves clinging to them like dried leather from the husks of decaying elephants, the wind whispering the sounds of mourning through their bare bones.  The aphids, if any survive, no longer venture forth from their hiding holes to this graveyard of the damned.  Whispered tales of the dying grounds haunt their young to this day.  Buds sprout forth from the plants but refuse to open, empty promises of a better future yet refusing to open themselves to the abuses of the recent past.
 
...Oh god...  So much poison...
 
So many dead aphids.
 
...Tomatoes are doing good though.
 
Each one succulent with the taste of Mother Nature's mockery, Gaia's terrible reminder of the crimes I have committed against her children as she withholds her peppery bosom from my suckling grasp.

 

[Hybrid Mode 01]

     I don't know that I like what the hobby of growing peppers is doing to you, man. Maybe it's time to take up a different pastime. Something more lighthearted and uplifting. Like murdering puppies or cutting.
     Good to hear your tomatoes are coming in, though!

 

[Scorched]

That was a great read. Hate damn aphids. Last year my ows made it all the way to April with no aphids in sight. Plants were nice and green and lush and then aphid armageddon. By the time I moved them outside in May they were all sticks. Most made it but some never recovered. This year I removed all the leaves from my ows before putting them in the basement. Sending good growing vibes your way

 

[PaulG]

the weird stuff on the bottom of the leaf looks like severe edema

I agree, looks like edema all right, too much water if that is indeed the case.