Character Development…My Non-Writing Life in Prose: Groundhog’s Day Every Day

I know the fanfare is over. February 2nd has come and gone like the fleeting fame of Punxsutawney Phil. But as February slips into March, my groundhog days are just beginning.

I have a garden-raiding trio of fat and furry rodents. Groundhog’s Day is every day from spring until the first hard frosts petrify the landscape.

There is Theodore. He arrived first. He is wider than he is long these days, no doubt due to all the sweet potatoes, beets, and Egyptian walking onions he has poached from my left bank garden.

Eleanor arrived second. She keeps a separate burrow on the opposite side of the stream and wreaks havoc on the celery and melons growing in my right bank garden.

Little Roosevelt arrived a year later. (No doubt his parents have been doing more than eating midst the cool and shaded canopy of my tomato plants.) Roosevelt moved into his own burrow at end of season last year. He is particularly fond peaches.

I call them the Presidential Family. The three of them have both gardens in a triangulation grid and are so fearless as to mosey on up to snag breakfast while I’m weeding at daybreak.

Last summer, my brother offered to shoot them for me. (Gasp!) He’d heard me wail about their midnight runs and blatant daylight strikes for weeks on end.

And there it was…right there…the final solution. My decision was as swift and final as a pistol click.

“No,” I said. “I think I’m old enough to share. I’ll just plant extra next year.”

After all, what’s a little garden rivalry among friends?

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