FOR 20 glorious years, my garden has been a kingdom of box: clipped, coaxed, shaped, and sculpted into a leafy gallery of green architecture. I’ve nurtured 11 proud topiary citizens, including the crowning jewel: a 6ft spiral that surely deserves its own postcode.

Life was peaceful. Orderly. Verdant.

Then came them.

The box moth caterpillars arrived like tiny, hungry tourists who’d heard my garden was the hottest new buffet in Truro. No reservations, no manners, no respect for craftsmanship - just an all-you-can-eat leaf festival.

And suddenly, I found myself in the unexpected role of benevolent gardener turned executioner, pondering the great moral question of the day: which species do I care for more? The elegant box plant I’ve shaped for two decades, or the admittedly beautiful moth larvae currently chewing it like a teenager with a bag of crisps? It was a moment of philosophical depth, interrupted only by the sound of another caterpillar munching.

In the end, I made my choice. After all, there are 160,000 species of butterflies and moths - surely losing a few freeloaders in my garden wouldn’t tip the cosmic scales. And box plants grow in woodlands across the land, so the caterpillars have plenty of other restaurants to visit.

My garden, however, is not a democracy. It is a lovingly maintained dictatorship, and the dictator has spoken.

Thus began my one-day caterpillar crusade: handpicking each wriggling intruder from every plant, like a very polite but firm bouncer escorting guests off the premises. I dispatched them “humanely” - which, in gardening terms, means “swiftly and with a decisive squish.” It was not glamorous work, but it was righteous.

Then came the reinforcements: pheromone traps (the botanical equivalent of a nightclub honeytrap), biological pesticides (eco-friendly but still sending a clear message), and daily monitoring worthy of a security guard at Buckingham Palace. I soon discovered that defending 20 years of horticultural artistry costs surprisingly little - just £40 and a full day of my life I’ll never get back.

But here’s the twist: I realised I’m not alone. Box growers everywhere are waging the same leafy war, juggling budgets, traps, sprays, and existential dread. The box moth isn’t just a pest; it’s a nationwide nuisance, a tiny green menace that forces gardeners into the role of gatekeeper, guardian, and occasionally, thumb-powered terminator.

Still, I’ve emerged victorious - at least for now. My spiral stands tall. My topiary army remains intact. And I, seasoned gardener and accidental philosopher, have earned the right to sit back, sip something refreshing, and enjoy the quiet triumph of a garden saved from the jaws of tiny chaos.

If only the caterpillars appreciated topiary as much as I do.

Cllr James Tucker is the Conservative councillor for Tregolls ward on Truro City Council.

• What do you think? Send a letter to The Editor, Voice Newspapers, 10 Southgate Street, Launceston, Cornwall, PL15 9DP. Or if you are a councillor and want your thoughts featured in print, email [email protected]