Windows and Temptations

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I am beginning to think that I may never complete the unpacking and get this house really together—I mean take it beyond simply functional. Too many work areas are positioned to offer a view of the fields, and what am I to do with so many temptations in my path? How can I be expected to concentrate on unpacking boxes, or organizing the last of the cabinets and drawers when I am faced with such wonderful diversions?

Who could resist picking up a camera with swooping hawks; scurrying ground squirrels; a coyote slinking across the field; elk on the trail headed for Cub Lake; the swallows, blue birds, and crows that come and go constantly. Then there always seems to be something blooming, or showing new color. There were poppies, then lupine, then daisies; recently there were rose buds; the hollyhocks are hanging on; and, most of the lavender is still colorful. As if that all weren’t enough, there are the mountains, trees, shadows, and often clouds.

With all that just outside my windows, following through on chores proves hectic. Even meals can be a challenge. Some days, I never manage to finish a hot meal because of all the interruptions. Prepare the food and settle in for the meal. Jump up and grab the binoculars to enjoy the antics of blue birds. Re-settle for another bite. Leap for the camera and slip out the back door to gaze at the hawks—oh, yes, make a few attempts at photographs (the hawks in flight are a challenge I have yet to master). Linger to marvel at the sky, grasses, and trees. Oops, return to microwave to reheat cooled meal; and then, repeat all of the above steps.

Libel and Innocent Creatures

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So, the truth comes out. False accusations flew and the local deer were impugned without sufficient evidence. Their very reputation as a species was sullied, and all due to hasty conclusions made in a pique of anger. Ladies and gentlemen, the deer are entitled to an apology.

Let us examine the evidence in the snapshots included here. Now, I ask you, ladies and gentlemen, did a deer dig that burrow in that planter box? Of course not. The day after the precious rosebuds disappeared—stolen in the night by a heartless villain, it appeared that some digging had taken place. Now, we have definitive evidence. Ladies and gentlemen, Exhibits A and B.

Clearly, one of the many burrowing creatures that reside here in Bear Valley Springs has illegally established residence in this planter. No. The records are clear. No permits were pulled for this occupancy. This is a straightforward case of unauthorized tenancy.

I ask you for a not guilty plea for the deer. We owe an apology to these innocent victims of circumstance. This was an embarrassing episode demonstrating the pitfalls associated with assumption of guilt.

Now, let us catch and punish the dastardly underground creatures that wreaked this devastation.

Gather Ye Rosbuds

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Robert Herrick gave us some good advice in his poem. Just today, I was reminded to

“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

Old Time is still a-flying:

And this same flower that smiles to-day

To-morrow will be dying."

Yesterday morning, I got out in the yard early. There I was, dressed to the nines (in my pj’s and bedroom slippers with that inevitable straw hat), and having a photographic feast on daisies, geraniums, petunias, and the fledging rose bush that The Husband recently planted. I was keeping one eye on the den of evil flesh-eating red ants, but mostly focused on enjoying one delicate and just opening rosebud, along with two or three buds that were mere promises. All in all, there were six or seven roses in the making. The anticipation was delicious. Soon, there would be a splendid show of the mostly white blossoms with the subtle pink touches. I was dreaming of another morning of exploration and further experimentation with the macro lens combined with Live View. (It took me a while, but I just got interested in this feature on my 50D.) When I went to bed last night, I was already relishing the dilemma of choosing among the blooms.

By now, you have probably guessed the ending of this sad tale. I awoke this morning to discover two pathetically bare rose bushes—stripped of all but one bud. The deer were probably the culprits. The hungry scoundrels had passed over the acres of grasses, along with what is left of the daisies, for our roses. Success growing roses in Bear Valley Springs is spotty. I have heard other such gloomy tales as mine. Yet, I have also seen bushes blooming away and seemingly immune from deer attacks. It’s time to learn the secrets of those whose bushes are surviving. In the meantime, I have a few photos to help me remember the sweet and fragile blossoms that I did get to enjoy.