I live in Philly. Which is a big city. And though I don’t live in a nothing-but-concrete neighborhood, it’s pretty damn urban – my street is all rowhouses and twins, with porches up to the sidewalk, and all the street trees growing out of holes created in the concrete. My own house is on a lot-and-a-half, so I’ve got a long, narrow side yard, and a back yard that’s abobout 40’ x 40’ – and this is where I garden. Enthusiastically. When I won a bunch of money on “Jeopardy!” ten years ago, the bulk of it went to taxes, retirement, paying off bills – but the big splurge was on having my side yard redone, steps done to the back yard, a slate walk put in, etc. It’s a pretty nice garden.
But it’s definitely a city garden. Wildlife consists of the neighborhood cats, who love to come by and visit my cat, Elvis; lots of squirrels. I saw a possum once, and you’ll occasionally see a raccoon. Birds: mourning doves, pigeons, and sparrows out the wazoo – catbirds nest in the crape myrtle, cardinals visit regularly, I’ve seen goldfinches eating the echinacea’s seedheads in the fall – and I’ve seen hummingbirds more than once.
And tonight, when I went to open the back door after getting home from work – there was a groundhog sitting next to the foxgloves.
A groundhog!?!?!?! Where the hell did a groundhog come from?