Having a garden comes in handy when there's hardly any food left in the house. It’s a great feeling to head out to the backyard and gather dinner. My husband's Grandmother used to head out to her garden with a salt shaker in hand and eat tomatoes straight from the vine.
When it comes to my garden, I’m no Mr. McGregor. In fact, I always notice my lettuce gets nibbled a bit, but it makes me happy to think I might be helping the likes of Peter Rabbit and his friends. Last year I don’t think we had a single pepper because something would get to them before I did.
I have no fencing and I use no special deterrents. However, I do have three cats. Jenny, the old dowager, lives in the house, but the other two, Fluffy and Katrina, we rescued from the wild. They live in the barn and still hunt—though Fluffy is probably more like Elmer Fudd then he’d ever admit. Last week, the two cats discovered a family of bunnies, including the cutest little babies, living somewhere in the hedges behind the garden. After several attempts by my daughter to stop the murder and mayhem, I’m sad to report the cats won every battle. My husband suspects the Mother bunny took off after the first attack. I was not impressed with that possibility.
I harvested my first radishes last night. All my veggies look very healthy—no nibbles at all. Though this tale is sad, the next time I’ve been too lazy to food shop I’ll have my cats, and their wild instinct, to thank for what I harvest. And perhaps I’ll stop referring to Fluffy as “Elmer” and start calling him “Fluffy McGregor”.