Menen Sees A Wee Little Snail

Of course, the Psychic Gardener was right about the snails and slugs targeting my new plants. As she suggested, I put the pellets down last night.

They work amazing, and it was full on carnage this morning. It was startling how quickly the genocide took place and the number of carcasses dumbfounded me. At this rate, I will have to install a tiny crematorium in the corner.

Actually, I feel uncomfortable about killing them, and I am not sure that I believe the pellet packaging, "Completely safe for your vegetable garden." At some point today, I will more than likely eat the flesh off a chicken cadaver, but this morning I feel guilty about killing a snail just because it likes to crawl on my moss and nibble on my lettuce.

Men • en: the modern definition of the word "Dichotomy".

Menen Feels Guilty

I have just returned from my flower and herb garden, where I planted a very heavy lava rock for a stepping-stone.

Earlier this morning, under cloak of darkness, I scampered to a busy intersection in which I had previously spotted a beautiful moss covered boulder. During a break in traffic, and moving with the grace and calculative nature that only the finest of obsessive gardeners possess, I quickly rolled it into my open backpack.

With a grunt and a snort, I hoisted it on my back and embarked on the journey to the garden. Staggering and sweating, I arrived at the vine-covered gate just as the sun was casting its first rays on my ferns.

As the clouds of dust arose and settled around me, I wondered if I just stole a rock. Maybe I should return it. Like Sisyphus, am I doomed to take this bit of hardened molten back a forth across town?