Green fingers

Literally. It's aphid squishing season again. Since the roses are actually Nana Pam's, this means it's also drench them in insecticide season, but (i) she's agreed not to spray the ones anywhere near the vegetable garden and (ii) I defy the little buggers to evolve resistance to being physically crushed into juice as fast as they evolve chemical resistance - mind you, it could be scary if they do.