Des Mûres

The town of DeMure was as vibrant as its people, all some-2000 of whom possessed as much zest as a saltine; Of which they ate plenty.

They also ate cream (corned, or wheat-ed), rabbit (Welsh), breads (sweet, but also sourdough fermented). Indeed, the land of DeMure hosted a bounty of produce, livestock and bi-products thereof, which are included in and also limited to the previously aforementioned. The world was their oyster (prairie-d).

The mundane routines and general lack in joie-de-vivre didn't bother the DeMure townsfolk much, as much wasn't something they particularly asked for, and often came with more work than was preferable to any of them, anyway. Thus, it came as quite an inconvenience, one day, that the eastern half of town found that their homes had been encompassed in blackberry brambles. The only home that hadn't been enshrouded in the invasive foliage was the goat farmers', whose flock had mowed down and devoured the thorny vines with gleeful voracity.

This was all fine and well for the goat farmer, but at the rate the thickets were expanding, the goats would have had to multiply just as exponentially if they were to keep this up on any sort of basis. The goatherd was exhausted just thinking about it. Nobody asked the goats, regrettably, as they'd've been well keen. Regardless, something needed to be done.

And it was, with much hacking, burning and tugging and digging;

all futile. The town was quickly and evitably consumed,

and none were ever wiser.