hot peppers

Brazen. Audaciously brazen. I've no better word for it.

It happened during the night. I'd had hints that it may take place. Here and there, little clues. And Ed had suggested maybe taking precautions. He floated ideas, I was mulling them over, and then boom! Too late. Battle lost (though the war is definitely not over).

This is the problem when you have shared your residence with those whose main purpose is to reap benefits through the destruction of your labor. This morning, I step outside and right away I see the damage. Two robust coral bell plants with mounds of colorful leaves: completely decapitated. Day liliy tips -- sawed off, as if by a sharp knife. Tulips, carefully planted along the new path -- mowed down to the ground, with some bulbs dug out for emphasis. And so on. 

The groundhogs danced by the light of the moon in my flower beds last night, feasting on all that's green and bountiful.

You cannot blame him (and probably his extended family). There's so little for them to eat right now. The flower beds offer hope. An appetizer of foods before summer gives them a full bounty of tasty delights. Still, it hurts.

Ed and I eat breakfast and discuss possible solutions going forward. The internet is full of strategies you can employ, even as I know most of them wont work. But, how about mixing the hottest of hot peppers (habanero) with other distasteful ingredients (maybe garlic? onion?), along with water and a bit of oil, and spraying at least some of the emerging plants with that potent mist? 

We order some habaneros from Amazon. Tomorrow, we fight back! Or at least redirect the woodchuck to more appropriate feeding venues. I mean, go eat the weeds already!!

(Breakfast)

It's a stunning day, albeit windy once again. No matter -- I have two Zoom calls today. One to help Ed, so more work than pleasure, and the other -- total pleasure, as I connect with my friend in Warsaw (though the COVID news there is not good, so I just listen and hope that she and so many others can hang in there before the vaccinations reach them).

(Ed takes a photo, possibly because Dance is there, lounging next to me.)

 

 

 

Eventually I do go out, shovel in hand. Such glorious weather! And of course, once you get the first daffodil, others come running to join the band!

(Another bloomer: my Hellebore plant, sometimes called the Lenten Rose, even though it is no relation to a rose.)

I try to ignore the groundhog damage. These animals are, after all, an integral part of farmette life. Groundhogs, hawks, possum. They take what's theirs, we replace what we can, with the hope that they'll be satisfied and leave plenty behind for us to enjoy.