Do you want to just throw up right now? I know, me too. Turns out my garden forager wasn't exotic at all; I staged a reconnaissance mission in the rainy dusk of Monday night and caught one of these gelatinous blobs in the act of slurping up my Chioggias. Six are completely gone, two more are almost done for. BEAST! My neighbor came out just as I found the marauder: two grown women, four rows of beet seedlings, and one slug. You would've thought I had encountered a piece of plutonium. The screaming (mine). The frantic pointing and prancing in place (mine) (as if on hot rocks). The gagging (mine). It was truly embarrassing. Not a native Oregonian's reaction. I couldn't believe myself myself. Fail.
So, Sluggo. Organic. I may also consider putting the copper tape or waterproof sandpaper around the top edges of the beds. Or hermetically sealing them.
Ah, such is the life of a dilettante gardener. There's nothing like gardening to make you appreciate the farmer's market, I tell you.
In other news (thank gosh there's other news), I have all of the fabric for the new quilt. The new cross-stitch just came back from the framer. The new web shop is in progress (it's slow — steep learning curve on this for me — but it's going to be really cool). My new yarn should be arriving any day. And sweet potatoes, marigolds, cosmos, dill, camomile, and tomatoes are now in the ground.