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It was a crisp and dewy morning in central Utah. Glancing out the large pane windows that line the walls of my back room, I smiled affectionately at the tender, pale green sprouts of squash and beans poking out from my precious garden soil. There were the tomato and pepper plants on the north end. Early sun was just beginning to brush my nascent, beloved garden's leaves. The previous evening had been spent weeding and loosening soil in order to add my luscious compost to the soil around my sprouts. Having slept soundly, I was ready to get back to work.

I stepped out the back door and into my compost and mud-encrusted gardening shoes. Enjoying the feel of the dew soaking through the canvas tops of my shoes, I strode to my large garden plot, my eyes immediately drawn to the five strong tomato plants that stood guard at the north edge of the plot. Then something shiny caught my eye. Something slimy and shiny. It was a slug, and it was crawling up my tomato plant! I dashed over and, my skin crawling, seized the evil thing and flung it far away. That's right, I was willing to kill for my garden.

Then I felt it. It was under my foot and it was lumpy. Another slug. I looked around, shocked, appalled, and disgusted. There were slugs everywhere! And snails! I discovered the first snail because its shell made a loud cracking noise as I hurried from end to end of my garden. I gagged at the gooey mess on the ground and on the bottom of my shoe.

Minutes later I tore into the house, startling my wife and three kids. My face must have looked strange, because my wife immediately started toward me, asking, "What is it? Did something happen?"

"Slugs!" I choked out, fury closing my throat. "And snails! Eating the garden!"

My two oldest, boys through and through, exchanged a glance. "Cool!" cried Thomas, the older of the two. In seconds they were through the back door and tumbling through the dew-laden grass in bare feet. I got there seconds after them, my wife following and holding the baby- Daddy's little girl.

The boys were already devising a prison for the slugs and snails they were harvesting. In minutes they had more than twenty of the slimy crawlers. Meanwhile, I was wracking my brain trying to think of how to keep the slugs away. Finally I yelled, "Salt!"

My wife gave me a brief look of confusion. Then she said, "Oh. Right. Salt kills slugs." She appraised the garden, then me. "But, that can't be good for the garden."

I slumped, my spirit dashed into pieces on top of slimy trails

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