Flowers

There's a message for me in our flowerbox.

Last summer our squirrels dug up/ate/destroyed our flowers.  They were red, and I thought that the color had something to do with the attraction.  So this year when my spouse did "our" (her) spring planning, I said, "Get purple flowers. Maybe they'll leave those alone."

The squirrels and I battled for the life of the purple flowers for a few weeks.  They'd dig them up, I'd replant them.  I squirted apple cider vinegar and sprinkled hot chili peppers.

The squirrels won.

I was ready to give up, but not my spouse.  She came home with beautiful flowers with bright orange heads.  By the next morning, the heads were gone.  Spite.  The plants were still alive, but their petals lay among them - remnants and reminders of their erstwhile splendor.  They were the embodiment of defeat and humiliation.

But nature was not done.  We left the headless plants in the flower box, and a few weeks later, they had new petals!  There they stood, bright and proud and erect.  Triumph.  They had risen! Each morning we were greeted by their glorious and joyful oranginess.

Had the squirrels learned their lesson?  Had we really won?  By Day 3, we were convinced that we had.

And then they were gone.  On the morning of Day 4, the plants stood headless in the morning sunshine.

So much depends upon those orange flowers.  Sometimes they get to present their full magnificence.  Sometimes not.  And they don't seem to mind either way.  Not to project too much, but the plants themselves seem perfectly happy.  And then there are the squirrels. Actually, in my mind there's just one squirrel who is engaged with me in a very personal battle like Good and Evil over the soul of Everyman. But of course that's not true.  Nothing could be further from the truth. The squirrel is just doing its squirrely thing.  And so am I - another part of nature that happens to have a bigger brain, and hence stronger opinions about how flowers should look.