I’ve always considered myself to be reasonably intelligent…until I was outwitted by the squirrels. 
Feeling a little down due to the impending dreary, cold winter months, I lifted my spirits by purchasing and planting $200 worth of flower bulbs. In my mind, I had skipped right past the visions of sugarplums dancing in my head and replaced them with daffodils, tulips, crocus, and allium welcoming my gaze from my window in a few long months!
In mid-November, I was a slave to the hard clay. Preparing the ground to accept my precious bulbs, I struggled. It took at least 3 tools to penetrate the red concrete, and that was just to dig the holes large enough for the actual bulbs. Adding at least 2 inches to each hole to account for the additives necessary to mix with our sorry-excuse-for-soil, I was exhausted just giving the bulbs a fighting chance! Virginia is so rich in culture, history, resources, etc. But why is our great state so lacking in decent soil?
After an eternity (2 days, in reality), my bulbs were planted. I mulched over the bulbs with precision, which looked as smooth as the lake on a still day at dawn (so that the squirrels couldn’t tell where I had planted). I was so proud of myself! Smiling with anticipation as I peered outside, I saw beautiful flowers smiling back at me as my mind fast-forwarded to spring. I felt a sense of accomplishment. I felt that winter would be tolerable.
I recently noticed that my yard is home to nice-looking squirrels. Not the skinny ones with the scrawny tails that inhabited it when I first moved to the lake. My squirrels could easily be mistaken for medium-sized cats: big round bellies with long, thick, fluffy tails!
Yes, I’ve unknowingly been providing my squirrels dessert, and more dessert…$200 worth of dessert! I pleaded, “You have more than enough acorns and hickory nuts! Leave my bulbs alone, please!” I begged repeatedly as I personally witnessed a few particularly robust squirrels feasting on my bulbs. Upon full investigation, that mulch that I so carefully laid over my bulbs now resembles the deeply cratered moon rather than our smooth lake. Digging around, I couldn’t find a solitary bulb. I believe they have all been enjoyed by the acrobatic creatures I’d love to hate–but just can’t.
I am perplexed. Unlike the squirrels, I am smart enough to look both ways before I cross a street. But apparently I am not smart enough to hide my bulbs. So next fall, when I’m so desperate to attempt this process all over again, I am determined to outwit the enemy. I am smart enough to ask for help! If you are smarter than the squirrels, please comment below to share your triumphant secrets.
“It’s another beautiful day at the lake!”