I give up — Chuck wins. Tomatoes, peppers, onions and weeds – plenty of weeds are all that remains in my garden. Over the last few days, groundhog trampled and ate the peas, the radishes, eggplant, cilantro, kale — it’s all gone — only sad little markers left like plastic tombstones. I can’t help feeling like he was just being vindictive, which I know is silly. This is not some Disney animation where the animals behave like humans – I planted things that taste good to him and he ate it all – that’s it. This year in particular, he seemed to be hungrier than ever leaving me with almost nothing, but he wasn’t really being malicious. Still, I can’t help feeling wounded and a tad hopeless about future gardening.
Chuck gnawed right into the core of my optimism and it is this that has me down as much as my disappointment that there will be no sunflowers towering over the garden this year. I rarely feel defeated for long and this will probably pass quickly – but for now I am in retreat, regrouping on what is possible and what is not. And is it all just a crapshoot? And to think that farmers live this way, trusting each year, that nature will be benevolent and there crops will thrive rather than be iced, roasted, eaten or otherwise destroyed. I’m not sure I could do it.
Gardening doubt creeps into thoughts about the rest of my life – a shadow of pessimism about everything I am spending my time and energy on. What’s it all for? Why bother? It’s difficult not to focus on expected results instead of just embracing the process — even when there are hiccups along the way, with determination, and certainly some love, it can all be kickstarted again. And as for gardening, in the future, I’ll try planting my greens in pots and putting them up high beyond greedy Chuck’s formidable teeth.