Last spring, I was engaged in a fierce battle of property rights with the legion of slugs that inhabit our backyard and crawlspace. Every night, they would ascend from the shadowed depths to feast on my spry young garden sprouts. In the morning, I would see hundreds of their sparkly trails of dried slime snaking out from the vents in our crawlspace across our back patio.
I had tried numerous ways to combat thier formidable army, from store-bought poisons to old wives' remedies. The thing that I found that helped the most was ground ginger. It didn't kill them, but it repelled them somewhat. So one morning, after sprinkling some ginger around my plants, I decided to go a step further and sprinkle some around the vents in the crawlspace. "Ha ha!" I thought victoriously.
That night, after Gary and I had settled into bed, Gary remembered that he had forgotten a load of laundry in the dryer. He got out of bed and made his way across our house, not bothering to turn on any lights. He was walking through the kitchen in his barefeet when I suddenly heard a loud holler. Through the bedroom doorway, I saw a light turn on down the hall. Then, a horrified scream.
"I just stepped on a slug!" Gary shouted.
Apparently, the slug wasn't willing to forge through the ginger to make it to the great outdoors, so instead, he slinked up along the water pipes into our kitchen. Lovely.
Gary had stepped on it just right--right under the ridge between his foot and toes--so that it squished up between his toes. Double lovely.
Throughout the first three years of our marriage, no matter what worries or stresses befell us, Gary never had trouble falling asleep. But that night, I listened to him toss and turn for several minutes before he settled down. And then I felt a shudder come from his side of the bed. "That was so gross," he whispered to himself.
I had tried numerous ways to combat thier formidable army, from store-bought poisons to old wives' remedies. The thing that I found that helped the most was ground ginger. It didn't kill them, but it repelled them somewhat. So one morning, after sprinkling some ginger around my plants, I decided to go a step further and sprinkle some around the vents in the crawlspace. "Ha ha!" I thought victoriously.
That night, after Gary and I had settled into bed, Gary remembered that he had forgotten a load of laundry in the dryer. He got out of bed and made his way across our house, not bothering to turn on any lights. He was walking through the kitchen in his barefeet when I suddenly heard a loud holler. Through the bedroom doorway, I saw a light turn on down the hall. Then, a horrified scream.
"I just stepped on a slug!" Gary shouted.
Apparently, the slug wasn't willing to forge through the ginger to make it to the great outdoors, so instead, he slinked up along the water pipes into our kitchen. Lovely.
Gary had stepped on it just right--right under the ridge between his foot and toes--so that it squished up between his toes. Double lovely.
Throughout the first three years of our marriage, no matter what worries or stresses befell us, Gary never had trouble falling asleep. But that night, I listened to him toss and turn for several minutes before he settled down. And then I felt a shudder come from his side of the bed. "That was so gross," he whispered to himself.
Oregon Slugs
(nobody's mascot)
(nobody's mascot)