Cool Science

OK, so last year Jenn and I made an attempt at some sort of a garden with actual food in it. Lo and behold it worked out fairly well. There were potatoes, brussels sprouts, hot peppers and lettuce. Yup lettuce. I don't know who grows leafy weeds like that for fun - apparently we do - but it was really successful and cool for a while. For a couple of weeks we ate really great salads.

This year we (translate : Jenn) think to ourselves: why not do it again except bigger and better? So we plant a leafy forest of mixed greens that takes up half our planter (don't worry, you'll get to see that soon enough) and congratulate ourselves for our initiative, healthy choices and all-around suburban coolness.

I still need to impart a little more background. Long story short : our neighbor's house is pretty badly neglected, and the large, cavernous space underneath the deck has several access points where we have seen herds of cats entering and leaving. One such opportunity looks like this (and if you have sharp eyes, then yes that is in fact poison ivy all around the neighbor's deck)

This was all fine and well until Jenn saw a groundhog saunter into that very opening yesterday afternoon and then she and I saw it again a few minutes later - double visual confirmation. Awww, cute groundhog, wonderous survivor and creature of nature. After oooo'ing and ahhhh'ing over the waddling, plump groundhog butt as it scurried under the deck, I averted my eyes towards the garden and discovered that about a third or so of our plants looked like this :

Yes, our uninvited guest (honestly, who else could it be?) had dined yesterday morning on a springy mix of sweet and delectable young sprigs of lettuce and clearcut about a third of our less-than-a-week-in-the-ground plants. And he had done it in the space of a few hours, because yesterday morning, Henry and Jenn and I had been admiring the fabulous lettuce plants in their full non-chomped glory.

Now growing up there was a lot of gardening going on - dad is the champ of gardening. And if I've learned anything about groundhogs ... it's that they always win. The only course of action is to lock horns in mortal combat, playing out the epic struggle of man vs beast, and hope to spare some shred of edible matter by the end of the summer. I had no illusions about this: the remaining lettuce would be eaten to muddy stumps by this morning. Indeed, yesterday afternoon I watched the groundhog and the feral cats prance around and underneath the neighbor's deck, vying for space (sorry no groundhog pictures...YET). The groundhog knew he wanted a condo right next to the garden and was trying to claim it, and I knew that no matter what he would be back for the rest of the lettuce.

So into the car I go -ostensibly to go to work and grade (that's what I told Jenn), and make sure I can turn in my grades on monday when they're due - but instead I truck to Lowes, truck back home, and assemble this minor masterpiece:

As of this writing, the lettuce survived the night and I am declaring an initial victory (with apologies to the cute but annoying groundhog - lest you feel sorry for him, he was very plump prior to discovering my ultra-low-calorie treats).

But let's not forget rule number 1 : the groundhog always wins. So I am waiting for him to escalate the arms race and do something new and drastic. For starters, they are good diggers. Sigh.