No Deer, No Deer, No Deer

My neighbor Harper made this sign. The unhappy deer is clearly not welcome.

So my little neighbor drew me a picture. I told her about the deer that came and ate my garden last year and she made me a sign to hang in my garden. No Deer! I love the way she drew the antlers. And look how unhappy my unwanted visitor looks.

The plan now is to fence the garden. And that's where I am right now. Thinking about fences and how to put one in that serves multiple functions. To fence out the deer, to preserve the view down into the ravine and to fence out the porcelain berry that grows wild on my neighbor's property and is trying to grow on mine.

I also want two types of fences. On the one side, I'd like a  fence that is like a wall, made perhaps of wood or bamboo. This would be a very high fence to keep the leaping buck from leaping in. On the back side, I am looking for something also high that will minimally affect the view, black wire between posts, with a gate so that I might still visit. And it all must look as if it always had been there. I've ordered a fence book. The Putterer

Disappointment

Last night, I went out to the garden and came face to face with the first deer of the season. I'd seen her damage that morning. A host of the old yellow daylilies on the path rising out of the wild meadow had been deflowered .

Her head poked out of the rich vegetation and the two of us just stared at each other. And then I began banging my fists on the rail of the deck in impotent rage. "Get out of here!" I screamed. "You don't belong here." She stood blinking doe-like at me as if she lacked any trace of comprehension, or fear, for that matter. She was just a large, pre-programmed eating machine. Her destiny was to snag any botanical hors d'ouerve that fate sets before her without caution or prejudice. And indeed, as I stood there screaming at the unwelcome intruder, my periphery vision was registering her destruction. All my budding daylilies were gone.

Only earlier that day, I had taken one of my good friends into the garden for a tour. And poking out from the black-stemmed hydrangeas were the gorgeous first flowerings of the daylily cotton candy. Tamara, my friend, who has as much interest in gardening as a hermit does in entertaining, commented appreciatively. I was a proud gardener. It is too early in the garden season for this deer to come. A gardener must learn to share her garden with all comers, even the pests. Slugs munch the lettuce. Caterpillars defoliate the bushes. Something else causes the peaches to rot. It's all part of a master plan that not even a master gardener controls. But last year, the destroyer waited almost a full month longer until July 18 before intruding in my paradise .  So I'm selfishly sad this morning. I even shed a tear or two. Okay, I admit, it was an all-out snotty blubber. I hate you deer! The Putterer

Everything that Dies, Some Day Comes Back

October and it's all done. This picture of my phlox David (white) and Veronica (lavender) is old, stored for a future post back in August. Outside this morning, the remnants of phlox petals are gently drifting away.

The 2009 garden might have been one of my best. The dependable rainstorms throughout the season meant I rarely watered (I think once or twice this whole summer). In fact, the biomass that I've raked and weeded out of the garden this summer is probably a record. The deer that came through must have encountered the deer resistant plants that I'd put in, and decided to graze elsewhere. His damage was minimized by a flush of growth. The family of wrens that took up residence in my birdhouse hopefully made it to adulthood. The goldfinches have moulted. Their gorgeous yellow feathers have turned an autumn brown. The banana tree in the pot on the deck is probably confused by the cool evening temperatures. (What am I going to do with it?) The apple tree never produced but at least it's not growing sideways anymore. The peach tree survived the gypsy moth infestation. The Fourth of July tomatoes delivered all through August. The herbs and peppers are still holding fast. And the eggplant plant gave me two or three lovely Aubergine.

Now comes the process of closing it all out before the first freeze in mid-November. The fall chores sometimes come with a self-imposed anxiety to rake and clean and put away. The crush of fall social obligations, sports games and school activities. The temptation to work late in the evenings and go in on weekends to meet the press deadline for goSmithsonian. All of this conflicts with garden work and chores. I have to remember that no one cares if the plants turn brown and fall over, and the leaves gather on the lawn. It's the way it is supposed to be and I need to move slowly, deliberately, one step, one season, at a time. The Putterer

Oh Deer Me

On Thursday morning, a deer trespassed in my garden. He munched his way from the daylily cotton candy, to mini pearl, to Lady Jane Staunton. He sawed off the purple blooms of two hostas and nibbled away at the sedum autumn joy. I found his footprint pressed into the soil next to my eggplant. A friend intervened and chased him away, but the damage was done. Still the next morning, a few lilies opened in defiance and enough color remains. It was disappointing, but not devastating.

I had a deer several seasons ago, who after tearing through my garden like it was a salad before dinner, dropped scat to further the insult. Since then, I have been carefully selecting plants from the catalogs marked "deer resistant." But the daylilies are my passion, I plant them fully acknowledging the risk that a deer might come and take them out in just moments. He must have come from Cherie's backyard and indeed, he likely stepped over and around the lobelia and monarda and cones that are not to his liking. A success, I suppose.

The garden attracts. It calls out not only to my spirit, but the birds come--there's an abundance of guana now splashed on my chairs from a nest somewhere high above. The bees and wasps and yellow jackets are attracted. The mosquitos. It is a haven for wild things. And so too, a deer. The Putterer

Postscript: Life's synchronicities are intriguing. Shortly after posting, I drove past a dead deer at the side of the road. Heartbreaking, to see it.