God's Good Earth: Joys, woes, and a shocking confession

Last Wednesday, I was enjoying fresh, delicious broccoli from my very own garden. Lo and behold, this morning the broccoli plant's leaves look like Swiss cheese. Or the face of the moon. Or a pasta strainer. Or cheesecloth. Tonight is the last night of the plant's life--I don't relish my broccoli when it's stricken with the Plague of the Miniscule Green Worms. Yuck. It's depressing just to look at my poor plant. I was so proud not to have attracted the little worms plaguing the neighbor down the street, even though I didn't personally do anything to repel them. Pride comes before the worms, I guess...

Even though the broccoli was stricken, I was still encouraged after my survey of the garden. I am continually amazed at the growth rate of my seventeen tomato plants! The flowers are beginning to appear. And the basil is finally getting bushy, thanks to the heat and sun.

Alas, my joy was not to last long. When I showed Dad my garden's progress, we noticed something appalling. MOLES. Just since this morning, the moles have been having a heyday in my poor little garden! Dad says that they're looking for grubs. When I dug up the soil to prepare for planting, I didn't come across any grubs, so I'm hoping that the moles leave as quickly as they've appeared. Unfortunately, the neighborhood has been stricken with Yard Acne (a.k.a. moles) and it's rather hard to shake. However, I hope they leave! They should, unless the grubs have moved in too. Green worms, moles, and grubs (maybe)... when it rains, it pours! UPDATE: The moles left the next day. I KNEW my garden wasn't grub-infested!


I love gardening. I wasn't able to grow much last year, except three cayenne plants which were savagely slaughtered by our neighbors' (late) white rabbit. So I'm really enjoying my garden. I love the feeling of accomplishment I get after I wrestle and conquer monster weeds, after I dig two feet deep to loosen up the soil, after I spend an hour on my knees breaking up clay clods with my hands (like the Miracle-Gro ad says, "It's time for your DIRT MANICURE."). Theodore Roosevelt said, "Far and away the best prize that life offers is the chance to work hard at work worth doing." And I know I'm going to feel great after I conquer the moles!

When I'm out in the garden, I get to connect with Texas in a different way. My garden is next to a street corner, and so I'm able to greet the neighbors walking to the library (and just ignore the "cool" people in large-wheeled cars with earth-shaking music blasting from within). I like being outside and getting familiar with this little piece of God's good earth. I've watched the pomegranates on the neighbor's bush transform from tiny buds of promise to exotic crimson blossoms to shiny green Chinese lanterns. I've enjoyed the rich red roses and orange lilies in the nearby flowerbed. I've witnessed the blossoming and leafing out and greening up. I see the patterns of the sunlight through the tree branches. I hear the birds sing and scold when I sit under their trees. I feel the rich soil and breathe in the pungently fresh aroma of tomato plant roots. This place is beautiful!

Now for the confession: I think that I'm rather a traitorous gardener. For decades, gardeners have banded together on the offensive against slugs. They have patrolled their plots in the early watches, armed with saltshakers to shrivel slugs up. Thay have set out pans of beer overnight, hoping to drown a veritable slug multitude (plus distant relatives). They have tried countless methods and gizmos.

So here's why I'm traitorous: I like slugs! They're beautiful, I think, and quite misunderstood. They glide smoothly and gracefully across rough terrain, leaving elegant, shimmering silver tracks in the moonlight. Slugs are marvelous! From their cool grey skin to their delicate antennae to their skillful foot fringes, they are beautiful creatures. Slugs constantly remind me of God's unparalleled creativity! I don't believe that they eat garden-fresh bounty out of spite--all they need is a cool, damp shelter (especially in this Texas heat) and a little food to eat. So I'm sympathetic to their cause. When I discover a slug, I gently evacuate him to a safer location (preferably one removed from sharp shovels) provided with plenty of moist shade.

I think it's time that we gardeners begin to treat slugs with dignity. Why should we dispose of them so cruelly, so indignantly? Is it just because they look different than we do? Is it because we think we're better than they are? Is it because we think we own this earth? We need to remember that God made slugs too--let's give them a chance.