Hey there, friend. I’m sure this was unintentional on your part, but it seems that you accidentally dug some holes in my garden. No worries! Just wanted you to know that there are seeds planted there that I’m really hoping will grow soon!
I totally understand your animal instincts telling you to dig in dirt, so no worries. Even though there are plenty of other plants and nuts and seeds you could be eating, and even though the seeds hadn’t even been planted long enough to start to germinate, I’m sure you were just trying to find a good place to plant your acorn. Although, it is strange that you chose my garden to plant it in. Well, and also, not only my garden, but specifically in the garden beds that I care the most about.
Actually, if I’m being honest, it does seem a little calculated, your hole digging. There were no holes in the garden before my husband and I spent hours clearing out the weeds from those beds and carefully, choosily planted those seeds. I like to believe the best in people, but you are a squirrel. I hate to assume the worst, especially of a neighbor, but I just want you to try to see this experience from my point of view.
When I came out to water my garden that I had planted 48 hours ago to find 2 (two!) holes, I was shocked. Who had been digging in my garden? You likely had no way to know how recently I planted those seeds you so rudely disrupted, but perhaps you do because we disrupted your regular Saturday afternoon backyard frolic with our weeding and digging. Was your digging a retribution?
Just for clarity up front, on Saturday my husband had to make 3 (three!) trips to the local Ace Hardware so we could complete our work. The first trip was for soil, a cherry red watering can, basil, mint, tomatoes, coffee, and a shovel. I’m sure you saw us fighting those thick roots in the bottom of the raised beds. Did you see when the shovel broke in my husband’s hands when he braced it against the roots? Did you laugh? When my husband returned from Ace with a fresh shovel, did you realize that there would be no stopping us from planting this garden and you would need to resort to sabotage?
Based on your digging patterns, I understand that you prefer seeds to actual leafing plants—are you trying to watch your figure for summer? Did you know strength training is actually more effective than a diet? In my herb bed, you left the basil and mint undisturbed, but the cilantro seeds I planted were strewn about along with the soil we’d bought. Were you trying to save me the embarrassment of trying to grow cilantro in this climate? Or are you one of those few squirrels who thinks cilantro tastes like soap?
And another thing! Don’t think I did not notice the way one of my lettuce plants has slowly diminished in size. Little did you know, I got those plants for free and they weren’t even part of my harvest plan this year. Your attempts to diminish my spirits through this lettuce diminishment have failed!
And on to the green bean seeds! I planted double the amount of green beans as I did any other plants in the garden because they are my favorite. But they didn’t even have enough time to germinate! I found the abandoned seeds you’d dug up in the grass beyond the raised bed—you didn’t even eat them! How am I supposed to interpret this act other than as a vindictive one?
I’ve been wracking my brain to try to understand what I have done to you to deserve this sort of action! We don’t mess with your stuff (other than mowing the lawn, I suppose). We don’t complain when hundreds of tiny oak sprouts come up through the gravel in our front yard, grown up from the acorns you were somehow able to plant under gravel. When you jump from the nearby trees onto our roof noisily early on Sunday mornings, right outside our bedroom window, we don’t start digging holes! We don’t even say anything to you in passing.
I’m just asking for you to please be a more considerate neighbor as we enter the summer months. I promise that you can dig holes anywhere else in the yard, you can eat any other plant outside of the garden beds. But please, pretty please, stop digging in my garden and let my green beans be.
P.S. don’t even look at my tomatoes.
Carlisle Patete (‘22) came to Calvin University from the mountains of North Carolina and graduated with a double major in film & media and creative writing. After brief stints in Los Angeles and Chicago, she now resides in Chattanooga, Tennessee, where she enjoys sweet tea on her front porch and identifying every tree and bird she runs into on any hiking trail.
