In January I read a Martha Stewart magazine that talked about starting your garden early, indoors. In February, I went to the gardening center and bought pots, topsoil, seeds, gloves, and a special spray bottle. In March, I delicately planted a single pumpkin seed. It sprouted in a little pot on my kitchen windowsill and I watered it every day. In May I moved it to my carefully tilled garden. I watered it every evening for weeks. It flourished. 15 feet long, it had 20 or so huge flowers. One of those many flowers turned into a tiny green pumpkin. That tiny green pumpkin grew and grew until it was about 8 inches across and starting to turn orange. I pictured my children carving it and setting it out proudly by the front door of our idyllic new home in a few short weeks. This afternoon I went to go pick some tomatoes, and discovered the mangled remains of my pumpkin vine. A few feet away, there was half my pumpkin, covered in teeth and claw marks, with a huge turd sitting beside it.
I could cry.

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