“Well, it’s time to pick up the pieces.”

“Pick up the pieces” is an idiom. As we know, an idiom is a group of words that doesn’t mean precisely what it seems to say, but does sort of mean what it appears to say. In this case, the phrase’s meaning may not be limited to picking up a bunch of broken stuff. It can mean to take a hard look, accept what’s broken, get over it and start again to do whatever needs to be done to resolve, address and otherwise handle the situation.

“Whatever” may be a new job, a new car, a new garden or a new approach to the garden.

I fear the garden is done for and cannot be fixed up — again. The branches of the young tomato plants are stretched and pulled to the ground. The small green tomato fruits are bitten in parts and strewn about as if tossed by a mini-hurricane. Never will those parts reassemble to form the round, red and succulent fruit we worked for and hoped so to find on our plates.

It is, as we feared: “The Squirrel Wars.”

Squirrels are rodents. Our squirrels live in trees. Others of their kind stay on and under the ground. Ours do not. The squirrels we have use the trees as roadways to scout, sight, descend and devour anything and everything eatable in site. These, our squirrels, are voracious eaters and cute little critters — until we, with tears in our eyes, collect the broken remnants from their last meal. Cuddly looking in a rich draping of brown and orange furs, our rodent residents are eating machines. In the Greek and Latin languages, the word for “squirrel” derives from words describing their long bushy appendage. Our rodents should be named for their tummies, not their tails.

In fairness, it is noted that squirrels and humans bear certain things in common. Both species are tenacious, persistent, resilient and optimistic – some might say overly, if not incredibly, optimistic. In the face of adversity, we, like the squirrel, never give up. Together, we seem born with a shrug and a smile to stare disaster square in the face, proceed to pick up the pieces and start over again.

In this regard, whatever we, the human residents of this property, might do to deter those bushy tailed banditos from their unbridled munching — fencing, fake owls, recorded wolf howls, alternative foods (try some popcorn?), loud screams, frantic gesticulations and mad racings about the yard – whatever we do, they persist. The cute little cuddly running rodents turn, smile and keep eating until the garden and its greens resemble a moonscape and its rocks.

Yet, the long-tailed ones are recognized for their traits — which are ours, too.

And, ripe red tomatoes inhabit the grocery stores, as ours will never do.

And, the costs of conflict strain temper and resources, to little avail.

Yet, it is not our nature to surrender, not in the midst of our trial.

In the face of such logic, there is a long-standing saying: “If you can’t beat them, join them.” The foe must become friend. In that accomplishment, our forces are joined and our difference resolved.

But, how?

Flowers!

The tree squirrel’s digestion cares little for non-eatable flowerings. As we remember from the Gomph and the gomphrena, flowering plants build in their taste a natural distaste on the part of those who would eat their blooms. It is their natural defense.

A squirrel solution presents itself: We turn the vegetable garden into a flower garden. The ravenous rodents leave the garden alone. We win!

How do the squirrels win? The good will, of course. In exchange for ceasing their slash and burn, we abate our frantic antics to deter. We allow the squirrels free passage over our lands to those of our neighbors and their gardens. The squirrels win!

It is a: “Win-Win!!!!”

You see we are not that different.

It just takes tenacity, persistence, resilience and optimism.

It is really not that difficult to negotiate with a squirrel or two or three.

Grandpa Jim