Andy and I went out for a paddle late yesterday morning and as we neared the cabin on our return, Andy said from his seat in the stern, "Remember the show Baywatch?"
Where the heck did that come from?
I can only surmise that our warm, sunny weather put him in the mind of Cali.We were also about to turn into our bay. Maybe simple brain word play with "bay"?
Yesterday, Andy picked the first cabbage. For the last month or so, we've both been noticing a growing number of holes on the cabbage's outer leaves. The holes seemed to appear pretty rapidly over the course of a couple days and then slow down or stop appearing all together for a little bit. With none of the tell-tale moths that come with cabbage worms, I put the holes on the cabbage into the "I'll think about it tomorrow" category. I probably should have done a little more inspecting because yesterday it became very apparent what the problem was: slugs.
Now, I think slugs and snails are kind of cute. And by cute I mean, a nice little motif for a notecard. Watching their little rear ends disappear into a head of cabbage is not cute. It's disgusting.
Since the slugs feed at night, last night, after an evening of berry-picking, Andy and I headed out back with our flashlight to catch the little cabbage eating blobs in the act. We pulled them off and dropped them into a cup of soapy water, then sprinkled liberal amounts of "Sluggo", a slug bait around the base of the cabbages.
By the time I'd rid the remaining eight cabbages of approximately 20 small slugs, my fingers covered with a thick layer of goopy mucus that should only be allowed to exist in places like the nostrils of that troll from Harry Potter. It took more hand soap then I'd like to admit to remove the goop. I hope they take the bait, because I don't really fancy going out and plucking them off the cabbages again tonight.
But if I sense my cabbages are in distress tonight, you'll know what it'll look like: me running in slow motion towards the raised bed: my flannel shirt flapping behind me, a flashlight, a cup of soapy water, and a can of Sluggo under my arm. It may not be sexy, this Slug Watch, but someone's got to do it.