This Year’s Garden

 

Last year at this time, we were watching in shock and horror as our lovingly planted and tended first vegetable garden was eaten away, root by precious root, by a devilish little animal known as the gopher. And by devilish I don’t mean impish or naughty in that mischievous yet still somehow adorable way.

No, no, no.

Gophers are truly the devil (picture rodents with pitchforks) of any backyard garden in our neck of the woods.

Be warned: no raised beds, no hardware cloth, NO veggies! Set traps, get a gun, blast sonic waves. Do something or those subterranean bandits will steal the fruits of your labor and make you cry. Seriously.

But this year is different. Thank goodness. I am very happy to say that as I look up now from the kitchen table and glance out the screen door and across the horse pasture and into the far corner of our field I can still see the tomato plants green as the oak leaves on the hill.

Whew! Breath with me. One big sigh of relief.

Every night we visit the garden to make sure everything’s still standing and in good working order. Mainly, though, we go down there just to delight in the growth spurts of our Sun Golds and Cherokee purples and Odorikos (The Odoriko, a Japanese tomato, has actually grown to E-normous proportions. That is one mother of a tomato plant!)

There is something magical about watching tiny plants shoot up toward the sun, grow new leaves, flower, and produce fruit. So basic and yet so rewarding.

The deep color and smooth, glistening skin of our eggplants:

The sweet, licorice aroma arising from a crushed leaf of Thai basil:

The irony of a delicate cucumber tendril, stronger and more persistent than anything else in the garden:

 

Good stuff, right? And in just a few weeks, it’ll all be ripe, and we’ll be eating ratatouille and pesto and tzaziki and gazpacho and lemon basil sorbet and and and…

Are you getting excited yet?

I am.

Three cheers for gardens! (And one big cheer for hardware cloth!)

 

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