My first real attempt at gardening occurred when I moved into the bottom flat of a small two-story house with a weedy, patchy, postage-stamp-sized front lawn.
I started with planting annuals by the front door and near the sidewalk. The marigolds, impatiens, and petunias brightened up the otherwise plain house. Maybe I really could be a gardener.
One day I noticed that a slimy, snail-like creature eating my flowers. A neighbor told me they were slugs—an apt name—and that pouring salt on them would kill them. I followed this advice, and it worked.
A few days later, I opened the door from the kitchen to my enclosed back porch. To my horror, hundreds of slugs swarmed the porch floor. I couldn’t even step out.
Well, I knew how to kill them. I bought a super-sized canister of table salt and sprinkled it all over. Take that, you nasty slugs!
An hour later, I opened the door to the porch to check on the slugs.
They were all dead. And all stuck to my floor. ❖
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