Vegetation Lamentation

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To say a child grows like a weed
Is rather unfair to the kid.
While children eventually do move out,
I’ve never seen a weed that did.


We weed and weed, and still we weep.  Oregon is where noxious plants settle to raise their families.  They move in and holler “Sanctuary!  Sanctuary!” whenever we start pulling them up.  We feel so sorry for them and their little tykes, we just don’t have the heart to—yeah, you’re not buying that, are you?  Would you believe we have terrible allergies?  No?  Hmmm.  At least they’re all organic.

GastroNom

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Plant the seeds
Or till the sod,
You’ll find our
Homely gastropod.

He ate my frisé,
Peas and beans,
Chowed all the leaves
And in-betweens.

Then slimed away,
Full fed and smug.
Next week’s menu?
Salted slug.


I’m not sure why Oregon has a state microbe (brewer’s yeast), but not a state mollusk. Specifically, why isn’t the slug serving in some official capacity? Lord knows we have enough of them. We could encase them in decoupage and sell them as souvenirs. I say it’s time we force this lazy garden grifter into some real responsibility. I just haven’t figured out how to keep the tiny sashes on yet.