July
22, 2015
I
have read “Peter Rabbit” many times to each of my three
grandchildren and always looked forward to the story's dramatic high
point: Just when naughty Peter seems destined for Farmer McGregor's
stew pot, the little rabbit – imagine a gleeful three-year-old
boy's voice reciting with me here – JUMPS out the potting shed
window and escapes under the garden gate. Now my younger grandson is
heading for first grade this fall and his older brother is a
man-of-the-neighborhood at age eight. Their little sister, 2 ½, is
the major Peter fan, although I notice her brothers happen to wander
over to the couch whenever the story's climax nears. The childhood
classics never grow stale, even for boys who can read their own
books.
None
of the three has much interest in Peter Rabbit's three sisters,
Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail, probably because they “were good
little bunnies” and, therefore, boring. (Kate, my granddaughter,
did seem quite taken with the girl bunny's pink dress, but I'm happy
to report she switched her focus as soon as she realized which rabbit
was having all the adventures.)
So,
because of my own fondness for Beatrix Potter's mischievous bunny,
and the cuteness factor of the real, wild rabbit in our neighborhood,
my options are limited as I deal with the vandalism in my own
vegetable garden. Strawberry plants: berries nibbled away, with
tell-tale tooth marks as evidence. Broccoli rows:Tooth marks on only
the leaves leaves at first – until the broccoli actually brocks
into tasty heads, each of which disappears as soon as it reaches
edible size. I was really proud of those broccoli plants: grew them
from a new seed, called “aspa-broc,” which promised a delicate,
interesting flavor that combined asparagus and broccoli. I'll just
have to take the seed packet's words as truth, of course – because
there is no aspabroc left to sample. Who knew our adorable brown and
gray neighborhood rabbit was a gourmet?
The
furry little critter's with the refined palate has apparently
twitched his nose at my zucchini bed – even though I planted an
heirloom Italian variety,“romanesco,” with a nutty flavor and
pale greenish gray stripes. I can tell you a lot about those
zucchini, because I have been eating them for two months, and the
three plants (three! Why did I plant three?) are still pumping out
zukes the size of my Subaru. While my husband (who cannot embrace the
squishy, bland essence of the Z) dines on variations of marinated
beef ribs and roasted herbed potatoes, my main course is, invariably,
baked zucchini rounds with herbs and parmesano cheese. And does my
little bunny pal have the courtesy to help bail me out on the glut of
squash in my garden, by adding a side dish of zucchini to his entree
of broccoli, with strawberries for dessert? Mais non.
Even
as my angst builds every time I pass the broccoli bed, I know I have
done as much to de-rabbit my garden as I'm willing to do. Early on,I
put up short, cute decorative wire fencing around all the vegetable
beds. Now I see that the wire designs are wide enough for even the
chubbiest hopper to squeeze through – and the height of the fence
seems perfect for the bunny to steady himself as ihe nibbles on
broccoli leaves. Pathetic. I know this. But it's Peter Rabbit. Who's
going to take down my grandchildren's storybook hero? Not this
grandma.
One
of my raised beds is still untouched. In the middle of the bed, I've
planted rows of Italian shell beans. Along the bed's edges, three
varieties of carrots are showing their lacy green tops. I expect a
superb carrot crop to peak in early September. A big honker of a
carrot crop – plus one little bunny with a gluttonous appetite–
or maybe a rabbit family reunion in the Rozen garden. I will be lucky
to salvage enough carrots for one batch of homemade soup. (Or a
pitiful relish tray.)
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