SQUIRRELY

The weather has turned cold and blustery, and I for one am ready for it. I thank the weather gods for a long and sultry autumn, but I am prepared to hunker down for the big chill. I love me a hunker, if it comes with a cozy sweater, a pot of something slowly cooked, and a fire, ideally in a fireplace.

That being said, one must plan ahead, and it was with spring in mind that I bought some 10 dozen tulip bulbs to plant before the ground freezes over. I’ve done this before, with wretched results. Squirrels stole almost every single bulb I planted in the fall of 2009. That’s right. We call it the Great Varmint Raid of ’09, and we still speak of it when we are whittling on the porch. A day of back breaking work, with nothing to show for it but hordes of squirrels, fat as cats, gently belching as they made their nests for winter. “Never again!” I vowed, shaking my fist at the sky. Well never is a long time, and when I saw a bin of bulbs at the plant store that LITERALLY HAD MY NAME OF THEM, I capitulated and bought 10 dozen.

I wasn’t exactly planning on planting them myself. Bulbs have to be planted deep, and I envisioning at least one of my strapping sons or my husband working the spade, while I wafted through the garden, perhaps wearing something gauzy, gently strewing the bulbs into the waiting trenches. There was, however, to be no wafting or strewing. John suffers from gout, an old man’s disease in a youngish man’s body, and he was out of commission. Both boys were off doing something Halloweeny. So I took the spade, called it a spade, and dug 40 holes, each about a cubic foot, while the squirrels watched me with their beady little eyes, anticipating a late Thanksgiving feast.

Little did they know that I had anticipated their anticipation, and availed myself of a secret weapon: cayenne pepper. That’s right. I bought 2 pounds of cayenne pepper at a spice store, and I was not afraid to use it. I sprinkled it down the holes on top of the bulbs, and after filling the holes in, I spread it liberally over the surface. It turned the soil orange, and quite a bit of it got in my clothes and my hair, and I did have a couple of coughing and sneezing fits, but damn it, Janet, my bulbs are going to rest peacefully until they reach for the spring sunshine.

It’s been almost two days now, my eyes are burning, and I still can’t stand up straight. So far, the garden appears undisturbed. I know because I peer at it from behind the curtains, watching the squirrels scampering hither and yon, none the worse for the wear from a chance encounter with the dreaded cayenne. Will this work? I don’t know. Was it worth it? Can’t say. Talk to me next spring.

Advertisement