We had our first (and sadly our last) carrots from the garden for dinner Friday. They were young, tender, sweet, perfectly formed and very delicious. When the carrots sprouted in early June, I didn't do much of a job of thinning them. So I was pleased that when I began to pull them that in spite of crowding, they were doing well, and I reasoned that the remaining ones would have more space to continue growing.
Mike and I spent the day doing business in Vernon yesterday. We noticed nothing amiss when we came home yesterday, but first thing this morning when I looked out of the kitchen window as I filled the kettle for tea, in the garden where there once were two healthy rows of carrots there was...nothing. A few carrot tops were strewn around, and there was a large gaping crater.
Mike leapt out of bed to see what was wrong when he heard my shrieks... I pulled on my wellies, threw on a work shirt over my nightgown, and marched out into the morning rain to investigate. An evil, wicked, very bad golden retriever, who shall remain nameless had yesterday merrily dug out and eaten every remaining carrot in my garden.
Here's the culprit: