I planted a row of tomatoes in a long container. I could pull it into the garage if a frost threatened. I took some care preparing the planter. I drilled holes for drainage. I lined the bottom with gravel. I added compost and coffee grounds from a pile and mixed the organic material with potting soil. I felt I had worked hard when I set two hybrid tomatoes and one cherry tomato plant in the planter. I put the planter out into the sun and the rains that night moistened the soil.
The next morning, I could see the tomatoes standing tall and following the sun. The transplanting had progressed with very little shock. I began to look forward to fresh beefy tomatoes and cherry tomatoes in a few weeks. I felt like I was farming again.
The morning after that, I looked at the planter. Two of the tomato plants had been knocked over. The leaves had begun to wilt. One hybrid tomato plant stood tall, ignored by the diggers. I stared into the tunnels into the dirt. Piles of dirt accumulated outside the planter, tossed by the side. I guessed that the squirrels had searched the planter for food, maybe nuts and seeds.
I set up the toppled plants. I filled in the tunnels with the soil tossed out. I watered all three plants. I hoped the squirrels were satisfied and I washed my hands. I left for work, imagining the tomatoes to come, sliced on salads and sliced thick for bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches. Squirrels will be squirrels I thought.
I came home. The tomato plants were drooping again. The squirrels had dug tunnels in the planter, looking for what I had hidden a second time no doubt. I was furious. I love wildlife, but wildlife shouldn’t get in the way of my salads.
In my youth, I knew how to hunt. I could hit a bullseye. I thought about buying a pellet gun and standing guard until the squirrels came back for another round. But I’m older now. I thought about putting mosquito netting around the planter or buying a miniature greenhouse. Good idea, but I really liked looking at the plants in the morning. It made me feel optimistic.
I decided to pretend nothing happened. I watered the toppled tomato plants. The plants came back to life. I left the tunnels in place. The tomatoes know how to grow upward to the sun. As the plants grow taller, I’ll add stakes to guide the vines in the right direction. Maybe the squirrels just want to help in the garden?
The seeds have mystified me this year. I looked at an empty bank of seed starters for more than a month. Nothing happened in those grids of soil. I kept hoping. I set the bank out into the rain last week. Now, I have squash and beans and peppers sprouting. I wonder why it took so long. But no matter as long as the garden has begun to grow. I have imagined again and again the dinner to come from my tiny farm to my humble table.
The Eastern Grey Squirrel
By BirdPhotos.com
CC BY 3.0
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=9645353
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