Daydreaming of Venison Stew

Before this summer, I had not considered deer a nuisance. Now, having had some experiences with them, I do. Lately, instead of thinking "What beautiful, graceful animals they are," my thoughts have tended towards "Wouldn't it be nice to have venison this winter?"

The deer have repeatedly leaped our garden fence and dined at their leisure, noshing on dwarf and espaliered apple trees (but never touching the pears), and an assortment of vegetables to their hearts content.

Last night they finished off the remaining--and nicest--two rows of green beans left of five. I. Was. Mad. Emerson and I replanted the beans July 6 after our first batch (using old seed) failed to germinate. It was late, but I figured we'd have a harvest in mid-September. I'd put up green beans weeks after everyone else, but the end result would still be the same: rows of freshly canned green beans in my pantry. Not this year. Unless I buy a bushel of beans elsewhere.

I consulted gardening books and web sites in hopes of finding something to deter deer. Nothing worked. What failed? A headless so-called scarecrow (a t-shirt on a hanger with a pair of Emerson's old pants safety pinned to the shirt) that I relocated throughout the garden, spraying old perfume all over said scarecrow (deer supposedly do not like varied human scents), a homemade garlic, liquid soap and oil mixture sprayed on plants and again on the scarecrow (deer supposedly dislike garlic), three grocery store plastic bags hung throughout the garden (to rustle and move), red pepper flakes abundantly sprinkled on rows of vegetables, citrus peels scattered with wanton abandon on the same rows of vegetables and around the suspect fence border. I even found an old hard boiled egg hidden under lunch meat in a fridge drawer and tossed that in the garden one afternoon.

I had yet to try a few tactics, which I'll attempt to save our green peppers. I will throw a sheet over the area of the fence that I suspect they are jumping, as deer supposedly will not go over a barrier if they can not see the other side. I will put down several feet of fencing on the ground on the outside of the fence, as supposedly do not like to get their feet tangled. I might even try a portable battery-operated radio, left on low all night in the garden. Perhaps I should have tried these ideas first.

A new, tall fence or a reinforced 'enhanced' fence is at the top of my Wish List.

And there is no supposing about it, though I don't eat much meat, I do enjoy venison.

Lone June Post

My brain has been stuck in mired muck since late May. But if you're the type that doesn't like to be left in the dark, especially when someone brought it up (me neither), let's say it involves everything from the grandiose (Peak Oil, the faltering economy), to the sublime (living with a bad haircut), to the gray middle in-between (which, I'm sorry to say, I can't reveal what I originally wrote here.) I had my husband preview this post. He remarked "Oh honey, I don't know. I think you better let it sit overnight," which meant that I should be less honest and change my post.

Everything on my mind was something that occurred that I probably should not publish. Blogs are interesting that way. How much can you or will you reveal about yourself, your family, your job? There's honesty and then there's HONESTY. It's a fine line.

In the writing book previously mentioned, it said to get every story, every item you want to discuss, out of your head. Don't leave it in your brain to gather dust like useless clutter. Write what you can't tell the world, even if you have to change names or alter the story. The author further suggested putting it on paper but not publish until a later date when it's "safe." I'd prefer to be 110% honest so that is my only option. I'll pull it out of my head because this brain clutter has been attracting snarling dust bunnies with glowing eyes. I'll put it in a notebook and gladly lose it. Years later I'll unearth the notebook. By then it should matter less, as I wish it did now.

But it is summer and the living is easy. Above is a picture of milkweed taken earlier, followed by our blueberries. We picked 5 gallons of blues on our Opening Day last Wednesday June 25. I love picking blueberries. Time will tell if we surpass our 2005 & 2006 total of 18 gallons. It looks to be a bumper crop, which we all deserve since the pre-Easter freeze of 2007 left Floyd County without fruit.

Summer of 44 to 45

[Note: This was a draft post written 7/13/07. Today I decided "What the h*ll, why not?!" That statement reflects my current frame of mind and is apropos.]

I spent the month of June wearing lavender, or at least I tried. In July, it's red. Today it's red with hot pink--with purple eye pencil to boot. And I think I look good!

I'm too young for the purple and red hat ladies, but I'm getting there. I eyed my dark pink pants in my closet and this funky red sweater I recently picked up at Goodwill (my favorite store), and thought, "Hey, how about wearing that new cool sweater with them?"

Red and pink usually go together only on Valentine's cards. Not today. So simple that wearing something like red and pink together makes me feel like George in that semi-famous line from Seinfeld, "I'm out there, Jerry, and I'm loving it!!"
[Photo courtesy of freelancebloke at Flickr]

What the Hail?!

It is a beautiful late spring day in Floyd County and though it feels like summer, the Summer Solstice is still ten days away. A storm cloud approached, the trees swayed and leaves blew in the wind. The storm blew over so we continued with our outside chores; Scott mulching an asparagus bed and red raspberry patch, while I removed all traces of bindweed from a long row of flowers. We finished our chores just in time to come in before the next storm cloud approached.
This one meant business. The trees swayed, the sky darkened and...what the hail?! Yes, for the second time in a week, Floyd County received hail. For two or three minutes it hailed like a son of a gun, larger than pea-size hail bouncing off the deck and accumulating in corners. Then it was over. Like nothing ever happened.

The sun is back out and I need to stake a forlorn hollyhock lying on the ground.