I purchased them as soon as they were available in the local nursery; carefully planted them in the large pot, watered them faithfully every day and fertilized them twice a month as recommended. I inspected them daily and silently cheered them on as new leaves appeared and then tiny buds. I took delight as the petals each jewel-toned blossom unfurled into a mature flower. Soon they were cascading over the edge of the pot, their dark green foliage supporting a riot of colorful flowers.
Then one morning I noticed a few blossoms looked tattered. When I inspected them more closely I saw several buds had holes in them down by the stem. Then I noticed a bright green worm half in and half out of one of the buds. A caterpillar! As examined each blossom and bud carefully I found more of the green worms: some just a bit thicker than a hair and others larger and plumper, obviously well nourished. I plucked them off of blossoms, now in shreds; buds with the interior already devoured; and along stems.
While I was working I thought how much worry in my life is like the caterpillars among the petunias. It ruins the perfect beauty of today leaving it ragged and torn; and invades the intended perfection of tomorrow leaving it already damaged and hollow.