DH made me promise to leave the garden to him this year. I was dubious, but could see the sense to me not hauling loads of compost and such around last spring. He even went so far as to chide me for weeding when he caught me at it. Well a lot of things did not get done, and a lot of things got done more than a bit oddly. He also did discover why I spend half my garden budget on iron phosphate pellets, we have slugs in great abundance. I did show him how much I spread, where, and all that with great explanations of the hows and whys, but after he chased me away from it he never did get around to spreading the pellets near so often as it needed. So while he was taking great care of at least the roses and the tomatoes, he kept running across slugs. He has more than a few times found them on his pants cuffs, or on an arm, or clinging to the outside of the picking bucket. He has developed quite the case of the greeblies where the nasty little things are concerned. And who could blame him?
So last night I heard him stomping in the kitchen. I went out to see if he had taken up clog dancing or what. He informed me that he was killing a great huge slug. OK ew! Splatted on the kitchen floor!? Then again how would such a beasty have come to be there? He hadn't been out yesterday. So I told him he had better let me have a look at it, for it occurred to me that your average slug could not possibly have stood up to such a vigorous attack. It was not a slug. It was a wee little hard plastic slug-grey snake, slightly flattened by the vicious clog dancing attack. Usually when we get that sort of thing for Ash they are in all the unnatural colors the Dollar Store can provide, so he probably brought it home from school.
Fortunately DH went through floppy eared sheepish and "I meant to do that" very rapidly, and got to laughing at the foolishness of it. I think he is now in the process of writing "The Slug Stomping Reel" for violin, guitar, autoharp, and flute.
NightMist