Eating their way up from below ground, they inhale a stem for the main course, then while we watch, suck down the flower for dessert. As soon as you dig a new bed, water it, and get the plants growing, the gophers arrive. They relish freshly dug, moist soil full of tasty new roots. Underground, they are having a gopher party, getting drunk on rose-root beer. The neighborhood dogs join in the fun.
Dirt flies, plants keel over, flowers succumb to battle fatigue.
Spent from their frenetic play, the dogs collapse in the shade to nap. Who knows where the gophers go. I push dirt back into holes, smooth down the mounds, set up toppled plants, wash off blossoms. To survive as an artist with responsibilities to a home and child, it is better not to get too attached to neatness and order in the garden, the house, or the studio. Years ago, Dennis and I lowered our housekeeping expectations.