Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
Every year seemingly mild-mannered, soft-spoften types in sun hats line up outside the park’s greenhouse like they’re waiting for Van Halen tickets. They pore over the proffered list of tomatoes, flowers, herbs, and vegetables, waiting for the gates to open before filing into the greenhouse’s narrow aisles to pick out plants that promise freakishly beautiful fruit with names like Green Zebra, Banana Legs, Cherokee Purple, Mr. Stripey, Box Car Willie, Hungarian Heart. Everyone’s polite and orderly at first but soon the initial stages of Garden Acquisitive Disorder set in, complicated by instances of Aggravated Greenhouse Rage among the ever-more-tightly-packed throng. Many in this crowd–at least for the summer months–prefer the company of plants to other humans, and you can watch their faces tighten like catcher’s mitts as they try mightily to balance their flimsy plastic flats filled with greenery against the pulsing tide. Much to their credit, the volunteers who run the event are unfailingly helpful and enthusiastic and do the best they can with crowd control.
Then the annual war against the squirrels begins. I use a no-kill trap and let them go, but this year I’m considering a few burgoo recipes. The thought of city squirrel makes me snirch, but how bad can they be if they’re feeding on these tomatoes? Anyone ever tried city squirrel?
