Monday, May 18, 2009

Garden Blues (A Lament about squirrels)

Yesterday, as I was peacefully eating lunch with my 20-month old daughter, I looked out the kitchen window, to proudly survey the joy that is my newly planted garden, and saw, to my dismay, a huge, insane squirrel running around under the squirrel-proof netting, trying to get out. I ran down, blind with rage and screaming at him, which only freaked him out more.

He was like a circus performer, using the net as a trapeze, and my tomato plants as his trampoline. I tried to help him out but he was understandably afraid of me, and probably had his feelings hurt by the obscenities I was laying down on him, so his judgment and spatial relations were a bit off. He finally escaped, taking the young lives of two of my carefully nurtured and loved tomato seedlings with him. I was so mad.

My daughter kept telling me the story of the fiasco ("out, get out" and clapping her hands) so I relived the pain for a while longer. But, after getting her down for a nap, I went out and surveyed the damage. At first I felt like a pioneer whose crop was just wiped out by locusts or hail, but then I took a deep breath and realized that I have nine other healthy tomato plants, which will produce far more than my family alone can eat. So, I took the netting off, because I'd rather them be able to get out after they get in, and planted the kale and leek seeds Keja gave me in the two spots where the tomatoes had been. I was wondering where they would go, anyway. Thanks, squirrel.