The villain meets his timely end

You've been clamoring for gardening and gopher news (no, you haven't, but I am confident you would have if you only knew what is in store) and here it is...

I've mentioned several times that I planted a garden at the end of February. Here is the main garden, as it looks now:
There are two strawberry patches on the far end by the sidewalk (with round stones inside). The next row is radishes, then spinach and carrots (a mixed planting experiment), then broccoli and cauliflower, then peppers (green, yellow and red), then tomatoes (grape and two other varieties, six plants total), then cucumbers, then 2 mounds of yellow squash and 1 of cantaloupe, and finally a row of zucchini. Along the edge of the house are peas and bush beans. There is also a basil plant randomly on the row of peppers. I planted basil and cilantro seeds in the little corner (near the strawberries where the sidewalk curves) thinking it was a waste, but there are lots of tiny plants sprouting, so we shall see if anything comes of that.

Here is the side of the house (that no one sees) planted with sunflowers and wildflowers:And here is the back yard where I planted four rows of sweet corn--the pot holds oregano and mint:
One month later, I have had at least some of everything come up, which is thrilling. The sunflowers are exploding, the corn is looking great. The strawberries are blossoming--as is my grape tomato plant.


However, my arch enemy, Mr. Gopher, is making this gardening adventure an experiment in frustration.

First (two weeks ago), I came out one day to find a tomato plant looking pretty sad. On closer inspection, I realized that what I was seeing was the top leaves only. The entire plant had been sucked into the ground and was gone, leaving an ominous gopher hole in its wake. Ergh. Luckily one of my five tomato plants had been a double, so we separated it and replanted. I still had five plants.

I came home from Utah to discover that two more tomato plants had been snatched. My blood was beginning to boil.

Three days ago, three new marigold plants from the end of my flower bed (30 feet away) were gone, lost in the bowels of the land--and (ew) the gopher.

The final straw happened on Easter. D's mom had only just planted three big, beautiful butterfly attracting plants. Mr. Gopher had an Easter feast of one of them, and topped it off with one more marigold plant. This last insult pushed then entire family over the edge into gopher-hunting mode. Four rusty traps were produced and laid (here is a photo of one. You have to attach the wire and stake it down so you don't lose your trap).
And today, when D's dad checked them for me (you betcha I am not going to do that dirty work!), we had caught one fat little gopher. "Pretty healthy little sucker," was my father-in-law's comment. "He may not be the only one, but he's been eating pretty well. This ought to go a long way to solving your gopher problem."

I sure hope so. Though I cringed in the front doorway as he cleared the trap and could barely stand to peek at the critter, most of my heart was rejoicing. I know it seems heartless to kill a little beast, but I'm starting to view it as having a mouse in my house. What a pest--it takes a lot of work and money to keep a garden going. I am not running a buffet for vermin.

So I'm over it. Gophers, beware my wrath.