Hole.
Last year the deer ate every flower and hopeful bud in the garden. This year, I scoured books and garden centers for every deer resistant flower I could find and planted them, as bulbs, in hopeful anticipation of the spring bloom. Yesterday, I came home to find that the squirrels, eager for a lightening of their fall work load, had emptied every hole, cast aside my precious bulbs, and replaced them with hazelnuts. I suppose someone has to dig the hole.
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