A reader sent in the following directions for a soda bottle slug trap. It sounds great -- then disgusting -- then great again ... then disgusting again. Enjoy!

Cut the top off at the shoulder of a 2-liter soda bottle about 1 inch down from the full bottle diameter. Invert the top and press it into the bottom body until the rims are flush. Staple at 3 to 4 spots to hold. Now you have an entry ramp that drops the slugs into the bottle with no way for them to climb back out. Prime the trap with a teaspoon of dry cat food. A bit of dog poop works well, but we won't get into that.

Lay the trap on its side, slightly buried so the slugs have a nice entryway. Even tuck a bit of dirt into the funnel. I like to place the traps in a "catch water" altitude. That is, slightly uphill so liquid will stay in the bottom area. You can also conceal the trap under a bit of brush, but sunlight needs to hit it sometime. In a public area you might want to secure it better from dog or other animal
activity.

Slugs climb in after the cat food, and have no way out. Exposure to the sun cooks them, leaving a fine slime that attracts more slugs. Eventually flies will find a mortal home there too. When you have become disgusted with the slaughter, toss the whole contraption in the trash, no toxic anything.

There are also some great tips here.

It's so beautiful outside today!

But, just my luck, I went to the eye doctor this morning and had my pupils dilated. That means two things: (1) I can just barely make out what I'm typing and (2) I hope the extreme-light-sensitivity wears off in time for me to do some weeding after work.

This weekend at the Portland Farmer's Market I picked up some tomatillo, pineapple tomatillo and lemon cucumber plants. The guy at the booth told me pineapple tomatillos are smaller than regular ones and incredibly sweet.

I'm already dreaming of salsa recipes and breakfast in the garden.

I've never been so happy to be driving at 6:45: This morning on NPR I heard a great story about gardens during wartime — from the ghettos in World War II, where gardens helped keep struggling Jewish families from starving, to Iraq, where soldiers have grown corn and other vegetables as a way to relieve stress.

The story also features Paul Kogita, of Seattle, and his brother, Ted. The two spent four years at the Minidoka Internment Camp in Idaho. During that time, they helped their father build a rock garden, where he would meditate. Some of the rocks are now in Paul Kogita's garden.

Here's the link: "Tending 'Defiant Gardens' During Wartime"

This morning I was e-mailing with Tacoma blogger Derek of Exit133.

Turns out Derek's quite a gardener and even has his own worm bin. Here's his praise for creepy crawlers:

It does wonders for your soil and recycles your food scraps. I'll be doing some maintenance on mine this weekend (lots of neglect the last few months)

He offered some spare worms and almost had me sold, but I'm not sure where I'd put a worm bin in my apartment. Ah, a girl can dream.

Here's a link for a worm bin similar to what he built a few years ago.

He uses the compost to feed his oregano, thyme, mints, rosemary, basils and veggies. Here's my favorite part:

I'm not the type of gardener that knows the latin names of plants or when they grow best.

Amen.

So, what's your gardening story?

I previously said I wanted the rain to go away, but I take it all back.

Things have been so busy this week, I haven't had much time to stop by the garden. Turns out all this rain has kept my plants alive without my help. Sure, the weeds are ridiculously overgrown, but that's what Friday morning is for, isn't it?

My broccoli looks like it's going to be ready to feast on in a couple of weeks. My radishes, spinach and lettuce are all going crazy, too. My tomatoes could be happier, but a conversation with a co-worker, Pat (the secret master gardener), assured me that they'll be fine -- I'll just have tomatoes later in the summer.

So, I still have a little space left -- is it too late to plant potatoes? Those golden beets?

Do we have purslane here?

The Washington Post article says that, if we do, I could pluck it out of my garden and eat it for dinner.

Yum! And much better than the other garden pest, slugs.

The best part about the recent rain is that Mother Nature is watering my plants for me.

The worst part: Slugs. Yuck. Yuck. Yuck.

My co-worker, Kits, suggests snipping slugs in half with scissors and added that she'd ended the lives of around 200 in one morning. Cue gag reflex.

Since that appeared to be too much for me to handle, she suggested some potions and powders.

Know any creative, non-harmful ways to ward off slugs? Anyone want to volunteer in my garden?

This morning, a co-worker mentioned that she's heard a lot about coffee grounds in the garden, but wasn't sure what to do with them. Do you brew a morning pot for your azaleas? Haphazardly toss grounds in the backyard?

Well, I didn't know the answer but I'm glad she asked. I've been meaning to start up a Question and Answer section of the blog. Just to be clear, I'll almost never have the answers, but I will always (try to) find them.

So, Stacey (sorry, you're outed!), from my web research I've found that coffee grounds have too many uses to count. You can spread them on a garden path (seriously, a PI reporter suggested that a couple of years ago in this article), sprinkle around flowers and fast-growing veggies, or put anywhere nitrogen is needed.

Starbucks gives the grounds away everyday on a first-come, first-serve basis. Bonus: The bags have directions for use. If that's not your scene, check with your favorite drive-through coffee purveyor.

Any more questions?

I grew something! Two radishes, to be exact. I was just doing some power-watering this morning and found them.

Being a sharer, I offered one to Executive Editor Dave (can I call you Dave?) Zeeck, who seemed less-than-impressed that his still had dirt on it.

And, being an occassional talker-before-thinker, I replied, "What did you expect?"

Oops.

Radishes...

Radishes 30 seconds later...

So, whatcha growing?

... I found this link, about making dresses out of produce.

I'm pretty sure my garden won't meet that fate.

I stopped by the garden last night and planted a row of turnips, which I don't think I've ever actually eaten, and a big row of Bibb lettuce. Mmm!

Also, yesterday I asked for salad dressing suggestions, then this recipe (and a couple others) showed up in the SoundLife food section today!

One $40 battery charger later, I finally have more pictures to share.

Here's an overview of the garden:

This is my tomato plant, which appears to be a little upset with me. My co-worker, Pat, said it'll survive, but I'm not so sure he'll ever go on to lead a normal, healthy life (the plant, not Pat):

Spinach, one of my favorite foods, almost ready for a salad:

I'll save the picture of my moody zucchini for later ... possibly much later, when he's ready for his close-up.

In the meantime, do you have any good salad dressing recipes for my spinach and salad greens?

I had a suggestion recently to grow Asian vegetables. I love Asian flavors, but was unsure what to grow -- or what I can grow in this climate.

Then I found this how-to for growing lemongrass from "starts" found in the produce aisle.

I'm hesitant to fill the garden with already-grown plants that I'm just keeping on life support, but fresh-from-the-garden lemongrass tea does sound delicious.

I didn't have time to stop by and water the garden Friday ... so my garden had to go about 48 hours without a drop to drink. Bad parenting, I know.

My onions, zucchini and already struggling cucumbers weren't too happy with me, especially with the heat. But I made it up to them by watering once Saturday, twice Sunday and once again this morning.

Phil, Tara and I also weeded for about an hour on Sunday. We didn't do anymore planting, but we did get things back in shape. Phil and I also taste-tested the baby spinach, which is almost ready to eat! Pictures soon (I got a battery charger yesterday).

Now that I've had a watering scare, I pledge to be better about visiting at least once a day, which will be crucial with this amazing weather we're supposed to have.

I doubt that I've ever -- in my life -- claimed to be patient.

But this gardening has made me realize exactly how impatient I am: I've dug up several radishes in hopes that one of them would be big enough to elicit pride. No luck.

With a busy schedule and a lot on the brain, I just realized that I've managed to destroy every bit of fun and relaxation gardening is supposed to bring.

So...

I was talking to my 2-year-old niece the other day about her new Golden Retriever-mix puppy. I asked her what sort of fun things she'd been up to with little Sandy.

Her reply: "Feedin' him, waterin' him, (pause) feedin' him again."

The point? Puppies, like plants, don't do much right out of the gate, something I will try to remember over the next month or so.

I've planted tomatoes, peppers, broccoli, leeks, cilantro, peas, spinach, lettuce, carrots, zucchini, squash, strawberries, an eggplant, radishes and basil...

...but I still have room left for a few more veggies, maybe three.

A co-worker suggested golden beets the other day, which I had never heard of. What else should I plant? I'm looking for something that doesn't take up too much space and is difficult, if not impossible, to kill.

The good news is, the zucchini and cucumbers are still alive.

The bad news is, they aren't exactly at 100 percent.

As I watered them this morning, I thought about how such wimpy plants could have survived through the ages (must be a fluke), what it would take to nurse them back to health (regular watering? inorganic fertilizer?) and what I thought I was doing growing so many zucchini and cucumber plants anyway (a favor for Phil).

I think you could call it gardening affective disorder. I guess if I end up growing anything (and I mean absolutely anything) edible, these hardships will all be worth it. Until then, I'll seek medical attention (for my plants. And me.).

I went away for the weekend and Tara babysat the garden, so I'm headed over after work to check on things. I need to stay on top of the watering game after last week's scare, which may reduce my zucchini and cucumber crop.

How often are you watering now that the weather is so nice? How long should it take me to water a 14- by 23-foot plot?

And, if you have a minute, check out this story about the popularity of gardening among apartment dwellers and young folk in Italy.

For an interesting discussion of high-class, up-and-coming lettuce and directions for growing salads in an orange crate, check out this link.

What are your favorite types of salad greens to grow? Are there any that can last through the whole summer?

I've struck again.

I'm afraid I might have killed (or at least severely debilitated) my zucchini and cucumber starts.

It might have been a day (two, tops) between watering. The weather may have been unseasonably warm. I may have no idea what I'm doing.

If my camera's batteries were a little better, I'd have a picture of my precious produce's flowers, which were wilted and shriveled when I checked on them last night.

I'm leaving for the weekend, but Tara (and a gracious neighbor we met) offered to water the babies back to health.

Is there hope?

Tara and I held a gardening extravaganza last night. We watered, planted another row of spinach and lettuce, a couple rows of carrots, two rows of basil (Lime and a red kind), and more cucumbers (Phil claimed, with a straight face, that he could eat 100 cucumbers. Oh, we shall see!).

We also planted those tomato and pepper starts from the Master Gardener's plant sale last weekend (see post below).

After watering, Tara and I stood back and admired our handiwork. With all those starts and the lettuce, spinach and radishes sprouting, it looked like a real garden... Then we looked around. It seems like everyone else had perfectly manicured dirt, but are holding out on planting things.

Did we jump the gun?

If you're as good with a pen as you are with a hoe, your garden might earn its keep this month.

This contest, from the National Gardening Association, could get you big (gardening) bucks if you write a tell-all (ok, maybe there's no such thing as a garden tell-all, but you get it).

If contests aren't your thing, you can still check out other people's touching garden stories.

I just chatted up a co-worker who's as garden-crazed as yours truly. She passed along info for a free plant exchange this Saturday at Immanuel Presbyterian Church (North 9th and I) from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m.

Bring any plants you don't want and take home ones you do: It's that simple. Did I say free? There will be more info on it in this Saturday's SoundLife section (courtesy of moi).

I'm a little sad I can't make it (I'll be in Corvallis for the weekend), but the good news is that my lovely co-worker offered another strawberry plant and a rhubarb to go with it. This means strawberry-rhubarb pie will be mine!

... but I won't do this.

I've heard a bit of buzz about this guy, who became obsessed with his garden to the point that he figures the cost of growing each heirloom tomato was ... $64.

Someone stop me if I get to that point, please.

In other tomato news, I went to the Portland Farmer's Market a couple of weeks ago and found these (substantially cheaper than $64) beauties:

Maybe I'll print a few copies out and put them next to my tomato plants so they'll have a suitable role model. Positive thinking never hurt anyone, now did it?

I was able to snap off two garden photos this morning before my camera battery finally died, but I thought you should see this:

And this:

The first one is proof that I'm not the grim reaper of the gardening world: things (this picture is spinach) are sprouting! The second is not my garden at all, but some cool raised-dirt trick some community gardeners are doing.

A new study found that more than 25 percent of Scottish homeowners pack up their beloved garden plants when they move.

I wonder how long before crafty home stagers will create entire fake veggie gardens to boost home values.

I put a strawberry plant in my community garden plot and, I have to say, the thought of pulling it up at the end of the summer is a painful one. Maybe I'll make like a Scot and move it into my apartment.

I found out over the weekend that I am highly vulnerable to plant sales.

I was so excited for the Pierce County Master Gardener's Sale that I insisted Tara (my colleague, gardening accomplice) and Phil (my boyfriend, visiting from Portland) join me for the 9:30 a.m. opening.

We trudged through the mob of plant fanatics to snatch up the best plants -- using my garden map as a guide. But the allure of buying adolescent plants for as cheap as $1 got the best of me, and impulse buying followed.

I came away with Yellow Pear Tomatoes, Romas and an heirloom variety with a name I can't seem to remember. Manitoba? All I know is it looked like it would be perfect on a burger. Peppers times two, zucchini, cucumber, eggplant, chives and basil also made it in the basket.

Sunday, I continued the spree with maybe 1,000 onion starts (oops, who knew there were so many in each little container?), a strawberry plant and far too much organic compost for one small garden. I like onions and strawberries, but they mainly served as a peace offering for Phil, who was a real champ about the whole spending-the-weekend-scouring-the-countryside-for-gardening-supplies-and-missing-live-NFL-draft-coverage deal.

A gardening champ, at least, until we got to a pub for lunch with friends, where he was able to consume the three known antidotes for feeling grown up: beer, pizza and ESPN.