We call groundhogs Gary. All of them. Until recently I thought Garys were great. They’re cute, chubby, furry little things. And then Gary came and ate my garden. He ate the tops off of every carrot. He pulled the beans and peas from my trellis, eating every leaf there was. He ate my parsley, my tarragon, half of my cilantro. He ate the tops of my tomato plants. My yellow squash, my zucchini, my cucumber, all destroyed. My dreams of a plentiful harvest are gone. When I saw the devastation I cried. When I saw Gary again, I was wishing I had a pellet gun in my hand. I’d kill Gary in a heartbeat. All of my hard work, all the time and effort, all the money we put into the garden. Hell, I was out there transplanting seedlings and sowing seeds when I was 9 months pregnant. I was pulling weeds and watering baby plants when I was only 1 week into recovery from my cesarean. I worked hard for that garden. And in one night a hungry groundhog ruined everything. Well, not quite everything. I still have basil growing. I still have some puny pepper plants, and the tomato that got topped has recovered pretty well. Some salad greens are still growing, and one lonely pea vine survived, giving me 2 little pea pods that we ate last night (they were delicious). It’s not the end of the world, but it’s still really disheartening. We might be done gardening here in this location. I think it may have to wait until we’re in our permanent home, so we can build a good fence to keep the Garys at bay. This hill we’re gardening on is not at all conducive to fence-building. At least we bought into a CSA this year, so we’ll be getting local organic goodies all summer long anyway. Sigh.