|What Would Mequon Say?|
I would love to have that statement overheard during a phone conversation. Not carrying a cell phone probably protects my reputation for sober reflection.
My neighbors were outside and noticed me carrying the beer to the Elephant Ears. I told them, "I am having a beer party for the slugs. They will drink this and drown by tomorrow morning." Wesleyan Methodists should note that this was the end of a six-pack I opened a year ago for this purpose.
The boys heard this about my beer party, and were intrigued. The father said, "I may come over myself," which presented an amusing image for the kids as I poured the beer into a bowl, which was kept outside for that purpose.
The problem with pests in the garden is attempting mass killing to aim at a few. If the slugs are not thirsty or have acquired sentience, the brew may go untouched unless neighborhood pets and wildlife taste it. Various slug baits are toxic and may entice the wrong animal while leaching the poison into the ground, killing the significant but overlooked soil creatures.
A Hymn from the Past
The quartet above illustrates what can be done with a hymn. A reader sent this because I quote James Russell Lowell from time to time - Truth on the Scafffold, Wrong on the Throne. His poem morphed into a hymn.
Ironically, Lowell, the son of a Congregational minister, did not write hymns as such, but spiritual poems. Therefore, a version of his poem became a hymn. Parts of that hymn appeal to liberals activists, but the key expression of the poem is within the graphic above.