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The Final Frontier

June 14, 2012

While working at the table on my screened porch, I hear a loud rustling and out of the woods jumps an enormous young male deer, who had apparently been rubbing his antlers against a tree, for he was trailing a long piece of creeper vine, which had wrapped itself around one of his horns. We see females and babies pretty regularly, but the males are unusual, so I yell for the family to come see. “Buck! Buck! Buck!* *”

They came running, looking alarmed. “Oh,” said Mr. Spy, looking disappointed. “We thought you’d hurt yourself.”

* * * * *

When emerging from the shower this morning, I heard AJ practicing guitar: “Another One Bites the Dust.” Perhaps not the best omen, but he sounds pretty good, so I can live with it.

* * * * *

In the hawthorne outside AJ’s window, at the end of the long branch that extends over the upper level of the deck, I spy a next in the leaves. When I open the door to investigate, Mama bird flies off. I quickly go back inside and AJ and I stand at the door and watch as she returns and settles back in her nest.

* * * * *

I am working at one of my favorite Toy Factory jobs today — I’m trying to imagine what new toys can be made out of the parts of old ones. Imagine, for instance, you make the game Mousetrap, which has a lot of different pieces that go together to make a certain kind of game. What if, you packaged up all the blue pieces. What could you do with that? What about the red ones? What about the big ones? The small ones? What would be interesting? What would be useful? It requires imagination at the front end and math at the back, which is not a bad combination. I feel like a magician, turning vague thoughts into something concrete.

* * * * *

The deer are interested in the flower bed next to the porch. They are avoiding the hosta. “Deer candy,” says my mother, and she’s right. But perhaps these particular deer lack a sweet tooth. Instead, they are giving my rudbeckia a severe pruning. “Deer proof,” say my gardening books. “Deer proof” only if they mean “proof of deer.”

2 Comments leave one →
  1. June 14, 2012 3:53 pm

    In 1979, Another One Bites the Dust was playing all over campus anywhere Ron and I went, so we decided it was “our song.” Sweet to hear it having a resurgence.

  2. Elizabeth permalink
    June 15, 2012 8:26 am

    I giggled over the first story. BUCK! BUCK! BUCK! I could so easily imagine that word being misheard . . .

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