Smorgasbord

This morning I was standing at my kitchen window, cleaning my tea cup for that beautiful first cup of morning tea, when I spied the Devil with huge brown eyes staring me down. Standing in the middle of my yard, in the early morning light was the Devil in fawn's clothing. Yes, I did say Devil and for those of us who toil in our gardens that is what these creatures are.





They are the prima dona's of the animal world. They don't scavenge like a raccoon. They are not sneaky like a fox. They aren't skittish like the coyote. They are brazen, bold, blinded by their own cuteness. They are conniving. They know they are graceful and beautiful to watch. That is why they move in that deliberate way. Have you ever wondered why they stop and stare at you from the side of the road? Just to make sure you are watching when they bound into the woods and disappear.

If you don't have a garden then you probably feel as I once did, that they are sweet wondrous creatures and why not share a little lettuce with them? But once you have caught the gardening virus and your temperature rises with each chewed leaf and nibbled tomato plant it's a whole new game. A game of wits and speed. A game of staring down and scaring away. As I stood in the kitchen and stared out my window, eyes locked with Satan, I started developing my strategy. But I knew neither us of would back down.

Another deer made his way out of the woods and stopped short when he saw his companion still in the middle of our yard. I think the deer in our area have a communication going. I think Walt Disney was onto something when he created Bambi. They do talk and right now they are talking about our garden. We have the only garden in our immediate neighborhood ( because everyone else has pretty much given up and getting anything they can actually eat once the deer are done feasting). So I believe the chain of communication has spread wide and far. When they are tired of the grass and other "wild " things they migrate through the woods and over the golf course and find their way to the buffet on Penfield Hill Road. They talk about the sweet leaves of tomato plants and parsley and nibbles of carrots and pepper plants. They discuss how best to jump over our rustic yet inefficient fence and the best time to avoid the dog ( who by the way was in the front yard as I was staring down the deer in the back yard).

So we're upping the anty. A higher fence, bells to make noise when they get close to plants that are staked. And a recording of my voice saying ," Don't even think about it." There has to be a way to outsmart them. Ignore their looks. Ignore those big brown eyes , bring on the challenge. Game is on!

yesterday

Today is Drake's last day of school. I am sad. Not because he will be home all day all summer( get back to me in a couple weeks) But really because he is growing up and doing it much too quickly. I started to cry when he ran out the door to the bus today. Of course, we have established that it doesn't take much to make me cry. It is just hard to imagine him a first grader. More so than kindergarten. Kindergarten just seemed like preschool with a bus. Of course it isn't. The curriculum is slightly mind boggling. I guess it was the half day.

I have decided to end the school year with some celebrating, even though it feels like March and cannot possibly be the beginning of summer. I have made cupcakes that spell out "welcome Summer". I bought some fun things to keep both boys busy, at least for the rest of the afternoon. But somehow moving on to first grade feels monumental and in need of some bells and whistles.

I remember moving on to first grade. I remember being in first grade. I loved it. I loved my teacher, Miss Bacon. What a fabulous name for a first grade teacher. There was also Mrs Rothstein who yelled at me once for yelling at her from the front of the room. She may have been nice after that but I truly don't remember. I do however remember Mrs Griswold, second grade, who gave me a Richard Scary book at the end of the year, which I still have. She signed it and everything. We also share the same birthday so I get a card every year from her. She did however have her doubts about me , I am sure, since I never stopped talking long enough to enjoy our "special arts" class on Friday afternoon. I probably still have the half done latchhook rug in my parent's attic.

There was Mrs Stachelak , who was just plain pretty and tall and had a great laugh. And Ms. Rubenstein, at least I think that was her name. All I really remember of her was I never actually saw her stand up. She was always behind her desk and directing us kids to close doors, open windows, gather supplies. I think if she had stood up half the third grade would have fainted dead away.

And of course fourth grade, Mrs Devokatis. She was cool incarnate. She let us chew gum...in class! After lunch she read a chapter from a book, we could chew gum and one lucky student got to hold her banana bookmark, which if I do remember corrrectly was quite dog-earred. She introduced me to Judy Blume with "tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing". I just didn't think it could get better than fourth grade and then came fifth...

Mrs Bober and Mr Read and Mr Peronace. They laughed togather a lot. They stood outside their classromm doors talking and laughing while the students filed from room to room. I remember my book report for Mrs Bober in fifth grade. She asked what George Washington Carver discovered and I guessed peanuts much to my relief since I had not finished the book. It was boring. Mrs Bober also played the piano and Mrs Kume, the music teacher, directed our plays. I was Becky in Tom Sawyer. It was the shortest lived acting career on record but I had an awesome costume!

So I guess I remember so many good things it feels like I was just there and now I have a kid who is embarking on this journey and it seems well, surreal. How can we possibly be in elementary school at the same time?

My Inner Girlie

I have never liked pink very much. I always watched my friends with detached fascination as they dressed their newborn girls in nothing but pink, occasionally some lavender but mostly pink. All I could think to myself was , "isn't there anything else but pink for little girls?"

The answer is no. I now have a precious little girl and as usual I am regretting those mean thoughts. Because really there is almost nothing but pink for little girls. Every store looks like a Pepto Bismol convention. I haven't had ot buy anything but if I did I would be hard pressed to find something other than pink to put her in. I have been fortunate to get all kinds of hand me downs from friends who have gone the girl route already. And truth be told it is almost all pink and what is not I am hesitant to use. I know, eating my words yet again. Factor in that it takes me upwards of 45 mintues to pick something out for her and my inner girlie has been found.

I also have found the temptation to dress us alike. I am not sure what inspires this but for any of my friends who might have done this and I made fun of them, forgive me. I am beginning to understand. I am not loathing pink. I am not opposed to Piper looking like me. And I will say if her hair is curly it may not bother me as much as I once thought it might.

A good friend of my sister's gave Piper her first piece of jewelry. A beautiful pink pearl bracelet. This past weekend friends of ours gave her a beautiful pink sweater and I found myself thinking how nice they will both look together. I hardly ever coordinate myself this way! I may have to start dressing better just to keep up.

So will I start wearing pink and skirts and worrying more about my hair? I don't know for sure. Pink is easy, skirts are do-able but the hair, well I gave up on that fight long ago. So if you see me wearing a pink skirt and my hair looks a little more tame don't be shocked just soak up the moment, it may not last long.