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Saturday, June 28, 2008, 3:00 AM
Of woodchucks and weddings By Jane Wood | Daily Times Columnist How much wood would the woodchuck chuck if the woodchuck could chuck wood? Remember that lilting riddle? Those of you my age are nodding. A woodchuck is also known as a groundhog, and he doesn't chuck, discard or eject wood. The beaver look-alike dines on clover, alfalfa and the offerings of a plentiful garden -- to the fury of backyard vegetable growers like me. Let me tell you about the Woods' resident woodchuck. It was late afternoon. I was in the kitchen stirring and stewing dinner. I glanced out the window and saw what looked like a rabbit standing on its hind legs in the field across the runway, but I didn't see elongated ears. I watched. The creature turned his head slowly in all directions. I presumed he was checking for enemies. Once satisfied he was alone, he dropped to the ground and began to feed. In a few minutes, up popped Mr. Earless to survey the area once more. Then again, he sank out of sight. My brain computer told me "groundhog." After checking the encyclopedia, I congratulated my brain; groundhog (or woodchuck) was right. Even though I no longer do battle with weeds, rabbits and woodchucks to have a garden -- they won the war years ago -- I recall the spring I did have a large plot with rows of corn, green beans, squash, butterbeans, cucumbers and tomatoes. In June of that year a friend's daughter was getting married. Another friend and I decided to host a bridesmaids' luncheon at my house. Oh, we planned lovely invitations, lovely flower arrangements and lovely appointments for the tables, and we eventually settled on a sumptuous menu. We decided that since the affair was to have a rural setting, we should incorporate "country" somehow in the decorations. We looked around. The scarecrow guarding my then lush garden stared back at us. Ah, ha! He could serve as a greeter! Since our driveway traced one side of the garden within 20 feet, our effort couldn't possibly go unnoticed. My friend Peggy and I wrapped Scarecrow in white sheets, winding them round his extended arms then bringing them together at the chest of his straw-filled torso where we placed a bouquet of sweet bay blossoms. We covered his straw hat in tulle, and draped it to flow over several rows of cornstalks. He became she and was an impressive replica of a bride. Oh, well, the best laid plans of woodchucks and women... janew@bbnp.com
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