There’s a thief in my garden
Everyone who’s spent weeks prepping the soil, watering seed, watching flowers bud and waiting patiently for the payoff knows the heartbreak of a thief in the garden.
Most years, it’s a rabbit or squirrel that makes me commiserate with Elmer Fudd. He’s fought a losing battle against garden thieves for years.
There also are the invisible bugs that love to dine on tender cabbages and wiley raccoons who seem to know just when the sweet corn is ripe — not a day too soon or too late. Calcium deficiency suddenly rots the bottom of plump tomatoes and squash bugs turn a beautiful zucchini into mush overnight.
But the most charming thief in the garden are the older women. I find them most often in the morning, just about dawn.
I am not an early riser by nature, but in the heat of summer, drag myself out of bed at 5:30 to get an hour in the garden before the weather becomes unbearably hot. By that time, the rabbits are gone back to the cool of their warrens for the day.
But, often I find an older lady — not the same one — walking along the rows of tomatoes with a grocery sack. She’ll pull off three or four fat, still hard green tomatoes, gingerly place them in the sack and glance around to see if anyone is watching. Then, she’ll sneak away silently to go home and fry up those green tomatoes for breakfast.
In my head, I see Elmer Fudd waiting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee, waiting for his breakfast.
