Raindrops gently tap the luxurious leaves of the maple canopy. Below, a shell pink blossom glistens, moisture hanging precipitously from its velvety surface. Nearby, finches chatter; oblivious to the rain. The cloudy sky is breaking up. Patches of blue peek through billowy masses of pussy willow gray clouds. A rainbow appears, it’s various colors as pure as the white of a morning snow. A doe and her fawn amble casually into view, their hooves sinking slightly into the emerald green grass which…
“Frank! Frank! Come quick! They’re in the roses again!”
“Oh my god! Those damn deer!”
Frank moves quickly, rotely grabbing a rolled up newspaper from the counter. In a flash, he is through the door, slamming it behind him. “Get out! Get Out!” he yells, slapping the rolled paper onto his open palm.
The deer look up as Frank advances toward them, and, with mother in the lead, mosey out of the yard. They have no idea what Frank’s barking means and, since they are color blind, that is face is crimson. Frank returns to the house. He is winded as he enters, still ranting about “those voracious varmints!” Frank falls into his easy chair. Suddenly he is exhausted; the adrenaline is wearing off.
“Marge, did you see them?” They barely moved.”
“I know, dear. Maybe we need to review what that local gardening expert said about dealing with deer,” responded Marge.
“Oh, yeah” says Frank. “What was it anyway?”
“Let’s see, I wrote it down somewhere. Here it is. Number one-the surest thing is a physical barrier like a fence or netting around our most prized plants. Second is to plant deer resistant varieties but not to expect any plant to be deer proof. Third on the list are a number of repellents, which work with varying degrees of effectiveness. Finally, he said to consider deer to be wildlife in the yard and enjoy them.”
“Humph,” responded Frank. “I’m willing to try those other remedies, but as to actually enjoying those overgrown rodents, well, I’m going to have to work on that.”
Marge joins Frank in her own recliner. They share a moment’s silence, and then begin to drift. Frank’s muffled snores obscure the soft patter of rain on the windowpane.
Battleship gray clouds dominate the sky except for slivers of peach and sunset orange on the western horizon. Chickadees jump nervously from branch to branch.
Below, a fawn stands motionless, slowing munching vegetation, which, unknown to the colorblind deer, happens to be shell pink.